UC-NRLF 


la:kbeb  qE:}irT{Y 


PLAYS  BY  W.  S.  MAUGHAM 

Unifona  witb  this  volume 

JACK  STRAW 

PENELOPE 

MRS.  DOT 

THE  EXPLORER 

A  Man  OF  HONOUR 

LADY  FREDERICK 

SMITH 

THE  TENTH  MAN 

CHICAGO:  THE  DRAMATIC  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


La^dsd  Qe^TT^r 


J  coMSor 

In  Four  tActs 


Br  W,  S,  MAUGHAM 


CHICAGO  : 

THE  DRAMATIC  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


Printed  by 

Ballantyne  &  Company 

London,  England 


f  1^  GO^b 
A8b  L2M- 

HAlM 


This  play  was  produced  under  the  title  "  Grace,"  at  the 
Duke  of  York's  Theatre,  London,  October  15,  1910,  with 
the  following  cast : 


Claude  Insoley 

Rev.  Archibald  Insoley 

Henry  Cobbett 

Gann 

Moore 

Grace  Insoley 

Mrs.  Insoley 

Miss  Vernon  of  Foley 

Miss  Hall 

Edith  Lewis 

Margaret  Gann 


Dennis  Eadie 

Leslie  Faber 

Arthur  Wontner 

Edmund  Gwenn 

Heston  Cooper 

Irene  Vanbrugh 

Lady  Tree 

Lillah  MacCarthy 

Mary  Barton 

Nina  Sevening 

Gertrude  Lang 


>\^RR9A 


CHARACTERS 

Claude  Insoley 

Rev.  Archibald  Insoley 

Heney  Cobbett 

Gann 

Moore 

Grace  Insoley 

Mrs.  Insoley 

Miss  Vernon  of  Foley 

Miss  Hall 

Edith  Lewis 

Margaret  Gann 


The  Action  takes  place  at  Kenyon-Fulton,  Claude  Insoley  s 
■place  in  Somersetshire 


Tlie  Performiity  Riyhts  of  this  ]}lay  are 
fully  protected,  and  permission  to  perform  it, 
vhethcr  by  Amateurs  or  Professionals,  must 
be  ohtaincd  in  advance  from,  the  author'' s  Sole 
Af/ent,  P.  Guiding  Bright,  20  Green  Street, 
Leicester  Square^  London,  W.C.,  from  whom, 
all  ijarticulars  can  he  ohtained. 


LANDED  GENTRY 


THE  FIRST  ACT 

Scene:  The  drawing-room  at  Keny on- Fulton.  It  is 
a  handsome  apartment  loith  large  ivindoivs,  reach- 
ing to  the  ground.  On  the  walls  are  old  masters 
whose  darkness  conceals  their  artistic  insignificance. 
The  furniture  is  fine  and  solid.  Nothing  is  very 
new  or  smart.  The  chintzes  have  a  rather  pallid 
Victorian  air.  The  room  with  its  substantial 
magnificance  represents  the  character  of  a  family 
rather  than  the  taste  of  an  individual. 

It  is  night  and  one  or  two  electric  lamps  are  burning. 

Moore,  an  elderly  impressive  butler,  comes  in,  followed 
by  Gann.  This  is  Claude  Insoley's  gamekeeper, 
a  short,  sturdy  man,  grizzled,  with  wild  stubborn 
hair  and  a  fringe  of  beard  round  his  chin.  He 
wears  his  Sunday  clothes  of  sombre  broadcloth. 

Moore. 
You're  to  wait  here. 

[Gann,  hat  in  hand,  advances  to  the  middle  of 
the  room. 

I  A 


?  '    '.  Landed  gentry 

Moore. 

They've  not  got  up  from  dinner  yet,  but  he'll  come 
and  see  you  at  once. 

Gann. 
I'll  wait. 

Moore. 

He  said  I  was  to  tell  him  the  moment  you  come. 
What  can  he  be  wanting  of  you  at  this  time  of  night  ? 

Gann. 

Maybe  if  he  wished  you  to  know  he'd  have  told 
you. 

Moore. 

I  don't  want  to  know  what  don't  concern  me. 

Gann. 
Pity  there  ain't  more  like  you. 

Moore. 
It's  the  missus'  birthday  to-day. 

Gann. 

Didn't  he  say  you  was  to  tell  him  the  moment  I 
come? 

Moore. 

I've  only  just   took  in  the  dessert.     Give  'em  a 
minute  to  sample  the  peaches. 

Gann. 
I  thought  them  was  your  orders. 


LANDED  GENTRY  3 

Moure, 
You're  a  nice  civil-spoken  one,  you  arei 

[]Vith  an  effort  "Gann  prevents  himself  from 
replying.  It  is  as  much  as  he  can  do  to 
keep  his  hands  off  the  sleek,  obsequious 
butler.  Moore  after  a  glance  at  him  goes 
out.  The  gamekeeper  begins  to  walk  up 
and  doion  the  room  like  a  caged  beast.  In 
a  moment  he  hears  a  sound  and  stops  still. 
He  turns  his  hat  round  and  round  in  his 
hands. 

[Claude  Insoley  comes  in.  He  is  a  man  of 
thirty-five,  rather  dried-up^  rather  precise^ 
neither  good-looking  nor  plain,  ivith  a 
slightly  dogmatic,  authoritative  manner. 

Claude. 

Good  evening,  Gann. 

Gann. 
Good  evening,  sir. 

[Claude  hesitates  for  a  moment ;  to  conceal  a 
slight  embarrassment  he  lights  a  cigarette. 
Gann  loatches  him  steadily. 

Claude. 
I  suppose  you  know  what  I've  sent  for  you  about, 

Gann. 
No,  sir. 

Claude. 

I  should  have  thought  you  might  guess  without 


4  LANDED  GENTRY 

hurting   yourself.     The    Rector  tells  me  that  your 
daughter  Peggy  came  back  last  night. 

Gann, 
Yes,  sir. 

Claude. 
Bit  thick,  isn't  it  ? 

Gann, 
I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  sir. 

Claude. 

Oh,  that's  all  rot,  Gann.  You  know  perfectly 
well  what  I  mean.  It's  a  beastly  matter  for  both  of 
us,  but  it's  no  good  funking  it.  .  .  .  You've  been  on 
the  estate  pretty  well  all  your  life,  haven't  you  ? 

Gann. 

It's  fifty-four  years  come  next  Michaelmas  that 
my  father  was  took  on,  and  I  was  earning  wages 
here  before  you  was  born. 

Claude. 

My  governor  always  said  you  were  the  best  keeper 
he  ever  struck,  and  hang  it  all,  I  haven't  had  any- 
thing to  complain  about  either. 

Gann, 
Thank  you,  sir. 

Claude. 

Anyhow,  we  shan't  make  it  any  better  by  beating 
about  the  bush.     It  appears  that  Peggy  has  got  into 


LANDED  GENTRY  5 

trouble  in  London.  .   .  .  I'm  awfully  sorry  for  you, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 

Gann. 
Poor  child.     She's  not  to  blame. 

[Claude  gives  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

Gann. 

I  want  'er  to  forget  all  she's  gone  through.  It  was 
a  mistake  she  ever  went  to  London,  but  she  would 
go.  Now  I'll  keep  'er  beside  me.  She'll  never  leave 
me  again  till  I'm  put  underground. 

Claude. 

That's  all  very  fine  and  large,  but  I'm  afraid  Peggy 
can't  stay  on  here,  Gann. 

Gann. 

Why  not  ? 

Claude. 

You  know  the  rule  of  the  estate  as  well  as  I  do. 
When  a  girl  gets  into  a  mess  she  has  to  go. 

Gann. 
It's  a  wicked  rule  ! 

Claude. 

You  never  thought  so  before,  and  this  isn't  the 
first  time  you've  seen  it  applied,  by  a  long  chalk. 

Gann. 
The  girl  went  away  once  and  come  to  grief.     She 


6  LANDED  GENTRY 

wellnigh   killed   herself  with  the  shame  of  it.      I'm 
not  going  to  let  'ei*  out  of  my  sight  again. 

Claude. 

I'm    afraid  I  can't   make   an    exception    in   your 
favour,  Gann, 

Gann. 
[Despei'atel?/.]  Where's  she  to  go  to  ? 

Claude. 

Oh,  I  expect  she*ll  be  able  to  get  a  job  somewhere. 
Mrs.  Insoley  '11  do  all  she  can. 

Gann. 

It's  no  good,  Squire.    I  can't  let  'er  go.    I  want  'er. 

Claude. 

I  don't  want  to  be  unreasonable.     I'll  give  you  a 
certain  amount  of  time  to  make  arrangements. 

Gann. 

Time's  no  good  to  me.     I  haven't  the  'eart  to  send 
her  away. 

Claude. 

I'm  afraid  it's  not  a  question  of  whether  you  like  it 
or  not.     You  must  do  as  you're  told. 

Gann. 

I  can't  part  with  her,  and  there's  an  end  of  it. 


LANDED  GENTRY  7 

Claude. 
You'd  better  go  and  talk  it  over  with  your  wife. 

Gann.- 

I  don't  want  to  talk  it  over  with  anyone.     I've 
made  up  my  mind. 

[Claude  is  silent  for  a  moment.     He  looks  at 
Gann  thoughtfully. 

Claude. 

\^Deliherately ^  I'll  give  you  twenty-four  hours  to 
think  about  it. 

Gann. 
\_Startled -I  What  d'you  mean  by  that,  sir  ? 

Claude. 

If  Peggy  isn't  gone  by  that  time,  I  am  afraid  I 
shall  have  to  send  you  away. 

Gann. 

You  wouldn't  do  that,  sir?     You  couldn't  do  it, 
Squire,  not  after  all  these  years. 

Claude. 
We'll  soon  see  about  that,  my  friend. 

Gann. 

You  can't  dismiss  me  for  that.     I'll  have  the  law 
of  you.     I'll  sue  you  for  wrongful  dismissal. 


LANDED  GENTRY 


Claude. 


You  can  do  what  you  damned  well  like  ;  but  if 
Peggy  hadn't  gone  by  to-morrow  night  I  shall  turn 
you  oflf  the  estate  on  Tuesday. 

Gann. 

[Hoarsely.]-  You  wouldn't  do  it !  You  couldn't 
do  it. 

\ There  is  a  sound  of  talking  and  laughter,  and 
of  a  general  movement  as  the  dining-room 
door  is  opened. 

CLA.UDE. 

They're  just  coming  in.     You'd  better  hook  it. 

[Miss  Yernon  and  Edith  Lewis  come  in, 
followed  hy  Grace.  For  a  moment  Gann 
stands  aivkwardly,  and  then  leai^es  the 
room.  Miss  Yernon  is  a  slight,  faded, 
rather  gaunt  woman  of  thirty-five.  Her 
deliberate  manner,  her  comjyosure,  suggest 
a  woman  of  means  and  a  icoman  tvho 
knows  her  own  mind.  Edith  Lewis  is  a 
pretty  girl  of  twenty.  Grace  is  thirty. 
She  is  a  heautifid  creature  with  an  eager, 
earnest  face  and  fine  eyes.  She  has  a  rest- 
less manner,  and  her  frequent  laughter 
strikes  you  as  forced.  She  is  always  falling 
from  07ie  emotion  to  another.  She  uses  a 
slightly  satirical  note  when  she  speaks  to 
her  husband. 


LANDED  GENTRY 


Edith. 


[Going  to  the  ivindow.']  Oh,  what  a  lovely  night! 
Do  let's  go  out.     [To  Grace.]  May  we  ? 

Grace. 
Of  course,  if  you  want  to. 

Edith. 

I'm  perfectly  sick  with  envy  every  time  I  look  out 
of  the  window.     Those  lovely  old  trees  ! 

Grace. 

I  wonder  if  you'd  be  sick  with  envy  if  you  looked 
at  nothing  else  for  forty-six  weeks  in  the  year  ? 

Edith. 
I  adore  the  country. 

Grace. 
People  who  habitually  live  in  London  generally  do. 

Miss  Yernon. 
Aren't  you  fond  of  the  country? 

Grace. 

[Vehementlr/.]  I    hate   it!     I  hate  it  with   all  my 
heart  and  soul. 

Claude. 

My  dear  Grace,  what  are  you  saying  ? 


10  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 

It  bores  me.  It  bores  me  stiff.  Those  endless 
trees,  and  those  dreary  meadows,  and  those  ploughed 
fields.     Oh ! 

Edith. 

I  don't  think  I  could  ever  get  tired  of  the  view 
from  your  dining-room. 

Grace 

Not  if  you  saw  it  for  three  meals  a  day  for  ten 
years?  Oh,  my  dear,  you  don't  know  what  that 
view  is  like  at  an  early  breakfast  on  a  winter's  morn- 
ing. You  sit  there  looking  at  it,  with  icy  fingers, 
wondering  if  your  nose  is  red,  while  your  husband 
reads  morning  prayers,  because  his  father  read 
morning  prayers  before  him  ;  and  the  sky  looks  as  if 
it  were  going  to  sink  down  and  crush  you. 

Claude. 

You  can't  expect  sunshine  all  the  year  round,  can 
you  ? 

Grace. 
[Smiling.]  True,  0  King ! 

Edith. 

Well,  I'm  a  Cockney,  and  I  feel  inclined  to  fall 
down  on  my  very  knees  and  worship  those  big  trees 
in  your  park.     Oh,  what  a  night  ! 


LANDED  GENTRY 


Miss  Yernon. 


In  such  a  night  as  this, 

When  the  sweet  wind  did  gently  kiss  the  trees 

And  they  did  make  no  noise.  .  .  . 

[Miss   Vernon   and   Edith    Lewis   go    out. 
Grace  is  left  alone  iviih  her  husband. 

Grace. 
What  on  earth  was  Gann  doing  here? 

Claude. 
I  had  something  to  say  to  him, 

Grace. 
May  I  know  what  ? 

Claude. 

It  would  only  bore  you. 

Grace. 
That  wouldn't  be  a  new  experience. 

Claude. 
I  say,  you're  looking  jolly  to-night,  darling. 

Grace. 
It's  kind  of  you  to  say  so. 

Claude. 

Were  you  pleased  with  the  necklace  I  gave  you 
this  morning  ? 


12  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 
[Smiling.]  Surely  I  said  so  at  the  time. 

Claude. 
I  was  rather  hoping  you'd  wear  it  to-night. 

Grace. 
It  wouldn*t  have  gone  with  my  frock. 

Claude. 
You  might  have  put  it  on  all  the  same. 

Grace. 

You  see,  your  example  hasn't  been   lost   on  me. 
I've  learnt  to  put  propriety  before  sentiment. 

Claude. 

[Rather  shyly ^  I  should  have  thought,  if  you  cared 
for  me,  you  wouldn't  have  minded. 

Grace. 
Are  you  reproaching  me  ? 

Claude. 
No! 

Grace. 
Only? 

Claude. 

Hang  it  all,  I  can't  help  wishing  sometimes  you'd 
seem  us  if — you  were  fond  of  me,  don't  you  know. 


LANDED  GENTRY  13 

Grace. 

If  you'll  point  out  anything  you  particularly  object 
to  in  my  behaviour,  I'll  try  to  change  it 

Claude. 
My  dear,  I  don't  want  much,  do  I  ? 

Grace, 

I  don't  know  why  you  should  choose  this  particular 
time  to  make  a  scene. 

Claude. 
Hang  it  all,  I'm  not  making  a  scene  ! 

Grace. 

I  beg  your  pardon,  I  forgot  that  only  women  make 
scenes. 

Claude. 

I  only  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I'm  just  about  as 
fond  of  you  as  I  can  stick. 

Grace. 

[Suddenly/    touched.]     After    ten    years    of     holy 
matrimony  ? 

Claude. 

It  seems  about  ten  days  to  me. 

Grace, 
Good  Go  J,  to  me  it  seems  a  lifetime 


14  LANDED  GENTRY 

Claude. 
I  say,  Grace,  what  d'you  mean  by  that  ? 

Grace. 

[Iiecove7^ing  herself.]  Oughtn't  you  to  go  back  to 
the  dining-room  ?  Your  brother  and  Mr.  Cobbett 
will  be  boring  one  another. 

[Claude  looks  at  her  for  a  moment,  then  rises 
and  goes  out.  Grace  clenches  her  hands, 
and  an  exjjression  of  utter  icretchedness 
crosses  her  face.  She  jjasses  her  hand  across 
her  eyes  loith  an  iiiipatient  gesture,  as  if  she 
ivere  trying  to  shake  herself  free  from  some 
to7^turing  thought.  IMoore  comes  in  with 
coffee  on  a  salver. 

Grace. 
Put  it  down  on  the  table. 

Moore. 
Yes,  madam. 

Grace. 

Miss  Yernon's  in  the  garden  with  Miss  Lewis. 
Will  you  tell  them  that  coffee  is  here? 

Moore. 
Yery  good,  ma'am. 

[ZTe  goes  out  of  one  of  the  French  ivindows 
into  the  garden.  In  a  moment  Miss 
Yernon  comes  in. 


LANDED  GENTRY  15 

Grace. 
Isn't  Edith  coming  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 

I  sent  her  to  get  a  wrap.    We  want  to  go  down  to 
the  lake. 

Grace. 
Will  you  have  some  cofice  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 

Thank  you.   ...     I  was  tijdng  to  remember  how 
long  it  is  since  I  was  here  last. 

Grace. 

[Pou7'i7ig   out    the   cofee.]    It   was   before    I    was 
married. 

Miss  Vernon. 

I'm  devoted  to  Kenyon,  I'm  so  glad  you  asked  me 
to  come  and  spend  Whitsun  here. 

Grace. 

My  mother-in-law  wrote   and    told    us   that   you 
weren't  engaged. 

Miss  Vernon. 
[With  a  smile.]  That  sounds  rather  chilly. 

Grace. 
Does  it  ? 

Miss  VernoK". 
[Abruptly.]  May  I  call  you  Grace? 


l6  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 

[Looking  up,  faintly  surprised.^  Certainly.     If  you 
wish  it. 

Miss  Yernox. 
My  name  is  Helen. 

Grace. 
Is  it? 

[Miss  Yernon  gives  a  slight  smile  of  umuse- 
7nent,  then  gets  up  and  stands   before  the 
fire-place  ivith  her  hands  behind  her  back. 

Miss  Yernon. 
I  wonder  why  you  dislike  me  so  much  ? 

Grace. 
I  don't  know  why  you  should  think  I  do. 

Miss  Yernon. 
You  don't  take  much  trouble  to  hide  it,  do  you  ? 

Grace. 
I'm  sorry.     In  future  I'll  be  more  careful. 

Miss  Yernon. 

[Rather  wistfully/.]  I  wanted    to  be  greit  friends 
with  you. 

Grace. 

I'm  afraid  I  don't  make  friends  very  easily. 


LANDED  GENTRY  17 

Miss  VerxoxV. 

We   live   so  near   one   another.     It  seems  rather 
silly  that  we  should  only  just  be  on  speaking  terms. 

[A  very  short  pause. 

Grace. 

They  wanted  Claude  to  marry  you,  didn't  they  ? 
And  he  married  me  instead. 

Miss  Vernon. 

When  I  saw  you  at  your  wedding,  I  couldn't  help 
feeling  I'd  have  done  just  the  same  in  his  place. 

Grace. 

[With  a  twinkle  in  her  eye.]  And  now  they  want 
you  to  marry  his  brother  Archibald. 

Miss  Vernon. 
[Smilijig.]  So  I  understand. 

Grace. 
Are  you  going  to  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 
He  hasn't  asked  me  yet. 

Grace. 

Five  thousand  acres  in  a  ring  fence.     It  seems  a 
pity  to  let  it  go  out  of  the  family. 


i8  LANDED  GENTRY 


Miss  Vernon. 


It's  such  a  nuisance  that  a  plainish  woman  of  six- 
and-thirty  has  to  be  taken  along  with  it. 

Grace. 
Did  you  ever  care  for  Claude  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 

If  I  did  or  not,  I'm  very  anxious  to  care  for  his 
wife. 

Grace. 

Why? 

Miss  Vernon. 

Well,  partly  because  I'm  afraid  you're  not  very 
happy. 

Grace. 

[StaQ'tlecL]  I?  [Almost  defiantly/.]  I  should  have 
thought  I  had  everything  that  a  woman  can  want  to 
make  her  happy.  I've  got  a  husband  who  adores 
me.  We're  rich.  We're — [tvith  a  sudden  break  in  her 
voice] — happy !  I  wish  to  God  he  had  married  you  ! 
It's  clear  enough  now  that  he  made  a  mistake. 

Miss  Vernon. 

[With  a  chuckle.^  I  don't  think  it's  occurred  to  him, 
you  know. 

Grace. 

How  many  times  d'you  suppose  his  mother  has  said 
to  Claude :  Things  would  be  very  difierent  now  if 
you'd  had  the  sense  to  marry  Helen  Vernon. 


LANDED  GENTRY 


19 


Miss  Vernon. 

Yes,  in  that  case  I  must  say  it's  not  to  be  wondered 
at  if  you  don't  like  me  very  much. 

Grace. 
Like  you  !    I  hate  you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul ! 

Miss  Vernon. 
Good  gracious  me,  you  don't  say  so  ? 

Grace. 

[With  a  sudden  flash  of  humour.^  You  don't  mind 
my  telling  you,  do  you  ? 

Miss  Veknon. 

Not  a  bit,  but  I  should  very  much  like  to  know 
why  ? 

Grace. 

Because  I've  got  an  envious  disposition  and  I  envy 
you. 

Miss  Vernon. 
A  solitary  old  maid  like  me  ? 

Grace. 

You've  got  everything  that  I  haven't  got.  D'you 
suppose  I've  lived  ten  years  in  my  husband's  family 
without  realising  the  gulf  that  separates  Miss  Vernon 
of  Foley  from  the  very  middle-class  young  woman 
that   Claude    Insoley   was    such   a    damned    fool    as 


20  LANDED  GENTRY 

to  marry  ?      You've    got    money   and    I    haven't   a 
farthing. 

Miss  Vernon. 

Money  isn't  everything. 

Grace. 

Oh,  don't  talk  such  nonsense  !  How  would  you 
like  to  be  dependent  on  somebody  else  for  every 
penny  you  had  ?  If  I  want  to  get  Claude  a  Christmas 
present  I  have  to  buy  it  out  of  his  money.  ...  It 
wouldn't  be  so  maddening  if  I  only  had  forty  pounds 
a  year  of  my  own,  but  I  haven't  a  penny,  not  a  penny  ! 
And  I  have  to  keep  accounts.  After  all,  it's  his 
money.  If  he  wants  accounts  why  shouldn't  he  have 
them  ?  I  have  to  write  down  the  cost  of  every  packet 
of  hair-pins.  [With  a  sudden  chuckle.']  And  the  worst 
of  it  is,  I  never  could  add. 

Miss  Yernon. 

That,  of  course,  must  increase  the  difficulty  of 
keeping  accounts. 

Grace. 

I've  been  an  utter  failure  from  the  beginning.  They 
despised  me  because  I  was  a  nobody  and  not  even  a 
rich  nobody  ;  but  I  was  a  strapping,  healthy  sort  of 
young  woman  and  they  consoled  themselves  by  think- 
ing I'd  have  children — a  milch  cow  was  what  they 
wanted — and  I  haven't  even  had  children.  .  .  . 

[Miss  Yernon,  not  hiowing  what  to  say, 
7yiahes  a  little  gesture  of  'perplexity  and  help- 
lestsness.      There  ia  a  Irief  pause. 


LANDED  GENTRY  21 


Grace. 


Oh  !  I'm  about  fed  up  witli  all  the  humiliations 
I've  had  to  endure. 

[Edith  Lewis  comes-  in  with  a  wrap  which  she 
gives  to  Miss  Yerxox. 

Edith. 
Will  this  do  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 
Thanks  so  much.     You're  a  perfect  angel. 

Grace. 

You  mustn't  stay  out  more  than  a  few  minutes.  The 
men  will  be  here  in  a  moment,  and  I  want  to  play 
poker.  When  my  mother-in-law  comes  we  shall  have 
to  mind  our  p's  and  q's. 

Edith. 
You  don't  like  Mr?.  Insoley  ? 

Grace. 
Mrs.  Insoley  doesn't  like  me. 

Miss  Vernon. 
Nonsense  !     She's  very  fond  of  you  indeed. 

Grace. 

I  could  wish  she  had  some  pleasanter  way  of  showing 
it  than  finding  fault  with  everything  I  do,  everything 
I  say,  and  everything  I  wear. 


;  LANDED  GENTRY 

Edith. 
She's  coming  to-morrow,  isn't  she  ? 


Grace. 

Yes.  [With  a  quizziccd  smile.]  She'll  thoroughly 
disapprove  of  you.  When  I  introduce  you  to  her: 
Tliis  is  Miss  Lewis — she'll  look  at  you  for  a  moment 
as  if  you  were  a  kitchen-maid  applying  for  a  situation 
and  say  :  Lewis. 

Edith. 
Why? 

Grace. 
Because,  like  myself,  you're  not  county. 

Edith. 

Oh! 

Grace. 

It's  all  very  fine  to  say  :  Oh !  but  you  don't  know 
what  that  means.  In  London,  if  you're  pretty  and 
amusing  and  don't  give  yourself  airs,  people  are  quite 
ready  to  be  nice  to  you  ;  but  in  a  place  like  this,  you 
can  have  every  virtue  under  the  sun,  and  if  you're  not 
county  you're  of  no  importance  in  this  world,  and 
you'll  certainly  be  very  uncomfortable  in  the  next. 

Miss  Vernon. 

[Smiling.]  1  think  you're  extremely  hard  on  us. 
If  you  have  the  advantage  of  .  .  . 


LANDED  GENTRY 


Grace. 


23 


[Seizing  the  opportunity/  which  Miss  Vernon's  hesi- 
tation gives  hei'.]  Middle-class  origins  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 

You  needn't  grudge  us  the  perfectly  harmless 
delusion  that  there  is  a  difference  between  a  family 
that  has  lived  in  the  same  place  for  three  or  four  cen- 
turies, with  traditions  of  good  breeding  and  service 
to  the  country — and  one  that  has  no  roots  in  the  soil. 

Grace. 
I  seem  to  hear  Claude's  very  words. 

Miss  Vernon. 
[Good-hu7nouredbj.]  Of  course  we  have  our  faults. 

Grace. 

You're  the  first  member  of  your  class  that  I've  ever 
heard  acknowledge  it. 

Miss  Vernon. 

[Medifativehj.]  I  wonder  if  you'd  despise  us  so  much 
if  you  had  a  string  of  drunken,  fox-hunting  squires 
behind  you. 

Grace. 

Oh,  my  dear,  when  I  was  first  married  I  used  to  lie 
awake  at  night  wishing  for  them  with  all  my  heart. 
When  the  neighbours  came  to  call  on  me  I  could  see 
them  obviously  lying  in  wait  for  the  aitches  they  were 


24  LANDED  GENTRY 

expecting  me  to  drop.  A  Miss  Robinson,  wasn't  she? 
Robinson  !  Are  there  people  called  Robinson  ?  Oh, 
how  I  wanted  to  scratch  their  ugly  old  faces  ! 

Miss  Verxox. 

How  lucky  I  was  abroad  for  so  long!  You  might 
have  disfigured  me  for  life. 

Grace. 

I've  often  thought  that  if  the  Archangel  Gabriel 
came  down  in  Somersetshire,  they'd  look  him  out  in 
the  "  Landed  Gentry  "  before  they  asked  him  to  a 
shooting-party. 

Miss  Yerxox. 

I  don't  think  you  ought  to  judge  us  all  on  Mrs. 
Insoley.     She's  a  type  that's  dying  out. 

Editu. 

I  don't  want  to  seem  inquisitive,  but  if  you  don't 
like  Mrs.  Insoley  why  on  earth  d'you  have  her  to  stay 
here  ? 

Grace. 

Simple-minded  child  !  Because  even  in  a  county 
family  money's  the  only  thing  in  the  world  that  really 
matters,  and  we're  penniless,  while  Mrs.  Insoley — 
\with  a  quick,  defiant  look  at  Miss  Yernox] — Mrs. 
Insoley  stinks  of  it.   ...   Do  I  shock  you  ? 

Miss  Yernox. 
[With  a  smile.]   No,  because  I  see  you're  trying  to. 


LANDED  GENTRY 


Grace. 


25 


Claude  has  nothing  but  the  house  and  kind  and  his 
principles.  And  if  we're  able  to  have  the  hounds  and 
tlie  shooting  and  a  couple  of  cars,  it's  because  Mrs. 
Insoley  pays  for  it. 


Miss  Vernon. 

[^Explaining  to  Edith  Lewis.]  Mrs.  Insoley  was  an 
lieiress. 

Grace. 

She  was  a  Bainbridge,  and  you'll  hear  her  thank 
God  for  it  frequently. 

[Archibald  Insoley  and  Henry  Cobbett 
come  in.  Archibald  is  a  iileasant^  good- 
looking  man  of  thirty -four,  with  a  humorous 
way  about  him,  and  a  kindly  expressioii. 
He  holds  the  family  living  of  Kenyon- 
Fulton,  hut  there  is  nothiiig  in  him  of  the 
sanctimoniousness  of  the  cloth.  Cobbett 
is  an  agreeable  youth  of  four-and-tiventy. 
They  are  followed  by  Claude  Insoley. 


Cobbett. 

[Seeing  Edith  Lewis  at  the  window.^  Are  you  going 
out? 

Edith. 

We  were — but  we  won't, 


26  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 

I've  been  preparing  Miss  Lewis  for  your  mother's 
arrival. 

Edith. 
I'm  beginning  to  tremble  in  my  shoes. 

Archibald. 

Our  mother  is  what  is  usually  described  as  a  woman 
of  character.  With  the  best  intentions  in  the  world 
and  the  highest  principles  she  succeeds  in  making 
life  almost  intolerable  to  every  one  connected  with 
her. 

Claude. 

You  won't  forget  to  send  the  carriage  for  her  to- 
morrow, Grace? 

Grace. 

I  won't.  .  .  .  Last  time  we  sent  the  car  by  mistake, 
and  she  sent  it  back  again. 

Miss  Verxon. 
Good  heavens,  why  did  she  do  that  ? 

Grace. 

Mrs.  Insoley  never  has  driven  in  a  motor-car,  and 
Mrs.  Insoley  never  will  diive  in  a  motor-car. 

Claude. 

\^N'ot  unamiahly,^  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  make 
fun  of  my  mother,  Grace. 


LANDED  GENTRY  27 

Grace. 

I  wouldn't  if  I  could  make  anything  else  of  her. 

[As  she  sa^/s  this  she  sitsdoimi  at  the  inano  and 
rattles  her  fimjers  over  the  keys. 

Grace. 
"Will  you  sing  us  a  song,  Mr.  Cobbett  ? 

COBBETT. 

No,  thank  you. 

Grace. 
I  want  to  be  amused. 

Archibald. 
How  desperately  you  say  that  ! 

Grace. 
[To  Cobbett.]  What  will  you  sing  ? 

Cobbett. 

I'm  afraid  I  don't  know  anything  that  will  fit  the 
occasion. 

Grace. 

I  seem  to  have  heard  you  warble  a  graceful  httle 
ditty  about  a  top  note. 

Cobbett. 

Thank    you    very    much,    but    I'm    not    fond    of 
making  a  fool  of  myself. 


28  LANDED  GENTRY 


Grace. 


Part  of  a  gentleman's  education  should  be  how  to 
make  himself  ridiculous  with  dignity. 

Claude. 

[7'o  CoBBETT.]  You  make  more  fuss  about  singing 
than  a  young  lady  at  a  tea-party. 

Grace. 

\LooMngat  Jam  ivith  smiling  lips  hat  ivith  hard  eyes.] 
Let  us  have  no  more  maidenly  coyness. 

[She  begins  to  jilciy^  and  Cobbett,  shrugging 
his  shoidders,  begins  with  rather  had  grace 
to  sing  the  song,  *'/  can't  reach  that  top) 
note."  While  they  are  iii  the  middle  of  it 
the  door  opens,  and  the  Butler  announces 
Mrs.  Insoley  and  her  comp>anion.  Mrs. 
Insoley  is  a  little  old  lady  of  some  corpu- 
lence, shabbily  dressed  in  rusty  black.  She 
looks  rather  like  a  charwoman  in  her  Sunday 
best.  Miss  Hall,  her  companion,  is  a  self- 
effacing  silent  2^erson  of  uncertain  age.  She 
is  ahoays  very  anxious  to  make  herself 
usefid, 

Moore. 

Mrs.  Insoley,  Miss  Hall. 

Claude. 


Mother  I 


[The  singing  abruptly  ceases.     There  is  general 
consternatio.'i.    Mrs.  Insoley  stops  still  for 


LANDED  GENTRY  29 

one  moment,  and  surveys  the  imrty  toith 
indignation.  Then  she  sweeps  into  the  room 
with  such  majesty  as  is  compatible  with  her 
small  size  and  considerable  obesity. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
Is  this  a  lunatic  asylum  that  I  have  come  into  ? 

Grace. 
We  didn''t  expect  you  till  to-morrow. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

So  I  imagined  by  the  fact  that  I  found  no  con- 
veyance at  the  station.  I  had  to  take  a  fly,  and  it 
cost  me  four-and-sixpence. 

Claude. 

But  why  didn't  you  let  us  know  you'd  changed 
your  plans,  mother  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I  did  let  you  know.  I  wrote  to  Grace  yesterday. 
She  must  have  got  my  letter  this  morning. 

Grace. 

Oh,  how  stupid  of  me  !  I  recognised  your  writing, 
and  as  it  was  my  birthday  I  thought  I  wouldn't  open 
it  till  to-morrow. 

Claude. 

Grace ! 


30  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 
I'm  dreadfully  sorry. 

Mrs.  Ixsoley. 

It  was  only  by  the  mercy  of  Providence  that  I 
didn't  have  to  walk. 

Grace. 

There  are  always  flies  at  the  station. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Providence  might  very  well  have  caused  them  to  be 
all  engaged. 

Grace. 

I  don't  know  why  you  should  think  Providence  has 
nothing  better  to  do  than  to  play  practical  jokes  on  us. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Looking  round.']  And  may  I  inquire  why  you  have 
turned  the  house  in  which  your  father  died  into  a 
bear  garden  ? 

Claude. 

It's  Grace's  birthday,  and  we  thought  there  would 
be  no  harm  in  our  having  a  little  fun. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Putting  up  her  face-a-mai7i  and  staring  at  the  coni- 
'pcmy  ]  I'm  old-fashioned  enough  and  well-bred  enough 
to  like  people  to  be  introduced  to  me. 


LANDED  GENTRY  31 

Grace. 

Nowadays  every  one's  so  disreputable  that  we  think 
it  safer  not  to  make  introductions.  .  .  .  This  is  Miss 
Lewis. 

Edith, 
How  d'you  do  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
Lewis ! 

Grace. 

[With  a  little  smile  of  amusement ^^  I  think  you 
know  Miss  Yernon  of  Foley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[  Very  affably.']  Of  course  I  know  Miss  Vernon  of 
Foley.  My  dear  Helen,  you're  looking  very  handsome. 
It  wants  a  woman  of  birth  to  wear  the  outrageous 
costumes  of  the  present  day. 

Miss  Vernon. 

[Shaking  hands  with  her.]  It's  so  nice  of  you  to 
say  so. 

Grace. 

I  forget  if  you  know  Mr.  Cobbett. 

COBBETT. 

How  do  you  do  ? 

[lie  hows  slightly  as  Mrs.  Insoley  looks  at  him 


through  her 

Mrs.  Insoley. 


Cobbett ! 


3 2  LANDED  GENTRY 

COBBETT. 

[With  some  asperity.']  Cobbett ! 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Turnmg  to  Miss  Hall.]  We  used  to  have  a 
milkman  called  Cobbett,  Louisa. 

Miss  Hall. 
Our  milkman  is  called  Wilkinson  now. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Very  graciously.^  You  were  singing  a  song  when  I 
came  in.     What  was  it  called  ? 

Cobbett. 
[Rather  sulkily.]  "  I  can't  reach  that  top  note." 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I  wondered  why  you  were  trying.  .  .  .  Why  are 
you  hiding  behind  that  sofa,  Archibald  ?  Do  you  not 
intend  to  kiss  your  mother  ? 

Archibald. 
I'm  delighted  to  see  you,  my  dear  mother. 

[He  kisses  her  on  the  forehead. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I'm  rather  surprised  to  see  a  clergyman  at  a  dinner- 
party on  a  Sunday  night. 


LANDED  GENTRY  33 

Archibald. 

I  find  two  sermons  a  day  excellent  for  the  appetite. 
And  the  Bible  tells  us  that  corn  makes  the  young  men 
cheerful. 

G  RACE. 

[Smiling.]  Aren't  you  dreadfully  hungry  ?  Wouldn't 
you  like  something  to  eat  ? 

Mrs.  Tnsoley. 

No,  I  shall  go  straight  to  my  room.  It  always 
upsets  me  to  drive  in  a  hired  carriage. 

Grace. 

I'll  just  go  and  see  that  everything's  nice  and 
comfortable. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Pray  don't  put  yourself  to  any  trouble  on  my 
account.     It  would  distress  me.  [Grace  goes  out. 

Edith. 

[Aside  to  Miss  Vernon.]  Don't  you  think  we  might 
go  down  to  the  lake  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 

By  all  means.  .  .  .  There's  nothing  I  can  get  you, 
Mrs.  Insoley? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Graciousli/.]  Nothing,  my  dear  Helen. 

[Miss  Vernon  and  Edith  Lewis  go  out,  and  a 
moment  later  Cobbett  slips  out  also. 

G 


34  LANDED  GENTRY 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Claude,  will  you  take  Miss  Hall  into  the  dining- 
room  and  give  her  a  sandwich  and  a  glass  of  port  ? 

Claude. 
Certainly. 

Miss  Hall. 

I  don't  think  I  want  anything,  thank  you,  Mrs. 
Insoley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Nonsense,  Louisa !  Allow  me  to  know  what  is 
good  for  you.  You'll  see  that  she  drinks  the  port, 
Claude.  [As  they  go  out.']  I  want  to  talk  to  Archibald. 

Archibald. 
My  dear  mother,  I  throw  myself  at  your  feet. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[With  a  chuckle.]  I  very  much  doubt  if  you  could. 
You're  growing  much  too  fat.  It's  quite  time  they 
made  you  something. 

Archibald. 

[Smiling.]  The  landed  gentry  hasn't  its  old  power. 
Promotion  in  the  Church  nowadays  is  given  with  new- 
fangled ideas  about  merit  and  scholarship  and  heaven 
knows  what. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I  hope  you  never  eat  potatoes  or  bread  ? 


LANDED  GENTRY  35 

AtU'TTTBALU. 

I  fly  from  them  as  1  would  from  temptation. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
Nor  soup  ^ 

Archibald. 
It  is  as  the  scarlet  woman  to  me. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
And  I  trust  you  never  touch  green  peas. 

Archibald. 

Ah,  there  you  have  me.  Even  the  saints  had  their 
weaknesses.  I  confess  that  when  green  peas  are  in 
season  I  always  put  on  flesh. 

Mrs.  Insoley, 

You  want  some  one  to  keep  a  firm  hand  on  you. 
You  must  marry. 

Archibald. 

I  saw  you  approaching  that  topic  by  leaps  and 
bounds,  mother. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

It's  a  clergyman's  duty  to  marry. 

Archibald. 
[Chaffing  her.]  St.  Paul  says  .  .  . 


36  LANDED  GENTRY 

Mrs.  Insoley, 

[hiterrfi.ptiw/.]  \  know  what  St.  Paul's  views  wore, 
Arcliibald,  and  1  disagree  witli  them. 

Archibald. 

[D7'yll/.]  I  liave  every  reason  to  believe  he  v.-as  of 
excellent  family,  mother. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Giving  him  a  quick  look^^  We  all  know  that  it  was  a 
great  disappointment  to  Helen  Vernon  when— you 
know  what  I  mean. 

Archibald. 

T  can't  help  thinking  she  showed  bad  taste  in 
surviving  the  blow. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

It  was  a  great  disappointment  to  me.  I  had  set 
my  heart  on  joining  Foley  to  Kenyon-Fulton.  ...  It 
wouldn't  be  too  late  even  now  if  you  had  the  sense  to 
appreciate  Helen  Vernon's  aflfection  for  you. 

Archibald. 

My  dear  mother,  I  can't  persuade  myself  for  a 
moment  that  Helen  Vernon  has  any  afiection  for  me. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

A  woman  of  her  age  is  prepared  to  liave  affection 
for  any  one  who  asks  her  to  marry  him. 


LANDED  GENTRY  37 

Archibald. 
Even  if  he's  a  poor  country  parson  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

You're  a  great  deal  more  than  a  country  parson, 
Archibald.  It  is  unlikely  that  Grace  will  have  any 
children,  so  unless — something  happens  to  allow 
Claude  to  marry  again  .  .  . 

Archibald. 
What  d'you  mean  by  that,  mother  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
Grace  is  not  immortal. 

Archibald. 
On  the  other  hand,  she  has  excellent  health. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
There  may  be  other  ways  of  disposing  of  her. 

Archibald. 
What  ways  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley, 

[Looking  at  him  cahnli/.]  Since  when  have  you 
laboured  under  the  delusion  that  I  am  the  sort  of 
woman  to  submit  to  cross-examination,  Archibald  ? 

[The  entrance   of  Grace  interrupts  the   con- 
versation. 


38  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 

I  hope  I  haven't  kept  you  waiting.     I  think  you'll 
find  everything  all  right. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

In  that  case  I  shall  go  to  my  room.    Archibald,  tell 
Louisa  that  I  am  ready  to  go  to  my  room. 


Archibald. 

Certainly. 

[Re  goes  out,  leaving  Grace  alone  ivith  Mrs. 
Insoley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Who  is  the  young  lady  you  have  staying  with  you, 
Grace  ? 

Grace. 

Edith  Lewis.     >She's  a  friend  of  mine. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
Ah  !      And  who  is  this  Mr.  Cobbett  ? 

Grace. 
He's  a  friend  of  mine  too. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I    didn't    imagine    that    you    would    invite    total 
strangers  to  stay  with  you.  i 


i 


LANDED  GENTRY  39 

Grace. 

I  don't  know  that  there's  any  other  way  of 
describing  them. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
I  dare  say  that  is  a  sufficient  description  in  itself. 
[Miss    Hall   cornes   hack  with   Claude   and 
Archibald. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I'm  going  to  my  room,  Louisa.  I  shall  be  ready 
for  you  to  read  to  me  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

Miss  Hall. 

Very  good,  Mrs.  Insoley.  [To  Grace.]  I  suppose 
you  don't  have  prayers  on  Sunday  night  ? 

Grace. 

No,  we  read  our  pedigree  instead.  You'll  find  the 
"Landed  Gentry"  in  your  bedroom. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[/ci/y.]  In  my  young  days  it  was  thought  more 
important  for  a  young  lady  to  be  well-born  than  to  be 
clever. 

Grace. 

\Chucliling .']  The  result  has  been  disastrous  for  the 
present  generation. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
Good  night. 

Grace. 

\Shaking hands  cordiallywith  Miss  Hall.]  Be  sure 


40  LANDED  GENTRY 

and  let  me  know  if  you're  not  quite  comfortable.     I 
hope  you'll  find  everything  you  want  in  your  room. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Of  course  Louisa  will  find  everything  she  wants. 
She  wants  nothing.     Come,  Louisa. 

[Mrs.  Ixsoley  and  Miss  Hall  f/o  out. 

Archibald. 
I  think  I'll  be  toddling  back  to  my  rectory. 

Claude. 
Oh,  all  right. 


Good  night,  Grace. 


Archibald. 
Grace, 


Good  night, 

Claude. 

[I'o    Archibald.]   I    talked   to   Gann   about   that 
matter. 

Archibald. 

I'm  afraid  he's  going  to  make  rather  a  nuisance  of 
himself. 

Claude. 
I  took  a  good  firm  line,  you  know. 

Archibald. 

That's   right.     It's  the  only  way  with  those  sort 
of  fellows.     Good  night,  old  man. 


LANDED  GENTRY  41 

Claude. 
Good  night. 

[Archibald  goes  out. 

Claude. 
You  were  asking  about  Gann  just  now,  Grace? 

Grace. 
I  was. 

Claude. 

At  first  1  thought  I'd  better  not  tell  you  anything 
about  it,  but  I've  been  thinking  it  over  .  .   . 

Grace. 

[Interruj^ting.']  It  was  quite  unnecessary.  I'm  not 
at  all  curious. 

Claude. 

I  think  perhaps  it  would  be  better  if  I  told  you 
what  I'd  done. 

Grace. 

I'm  sure  that  whatever  you've  done  is  right,  Claude. 
[^SmilingA^     That's  why  you're  so  detestable. 

Claude. 

That's  all  very  tine  and  large,  but  I  think  I'd  like 
to  have  your  approval. 

Grace. 

We  agreed  very  early  in  our  married  life  that  your 
acts  were  such  as  must  necessarily  meet  with  my 
approval. 


42  LANDED  GENTRY 

Claude. 
What's  the  matter  with  you,  Grace  ? 

Grace. 
With  me  ?     Nothing. 

Claude. 

You've  been  so  funny  lately.  I  haven't  been  able 
to  make  you  out  at  all. 

Grace. 

I  should  have  thought  you  had  more  important 
things  to  do  than  to  bother  about  me. 

Claude. 

I've  got  nothing  in  the  world  to  do  more  important 
than  to  bother  about  you,  Grace. 

[She  looks  at  him  for  an  instant,  with  a  catch  in 
her  breath. 

Grace. 

Don't  worry  rce  to-night,  Claude  ;  my  head's  aching 
so  that  I  feel  I  could  scream. 

Claude. 

{With  the  tenderest  concern.']  My  poor  child,  why 
didn't  you  tell  me  ?  I'm  so  sorry  I've  been  bothering 
you.     Is  it  very  bad  ? 

Grace. 

What  a  beast  I  am  !  How  can  you  like  me  when 
I'm  so  absolutely  horrid  to  you  ? 


LANDED  GENTRY  43 

Claude. 

My  darling,  I  don't  blame  you  for  having  a  head- 
ache. 

Grace. 

I'm  sorry  I  was  beastly  to  you  just  now. 

Claude. 
What  nonsense ! 

[He  tries   to    take   her  in   his  arms,  hut   she 
draws  herself  aw  at/. 

Grace. 
Please  don't,  Claude. 

Claude. 
Why  don't  you  go  to  bed,  darling  ? 

Grace. 
[With  a  cry  of  something  like  fright.']     Oh,  no  ! 

Claude. 
Bed's  the  best  place  for  everybody  at  this  hour. 

Grace. 

I  want  to  amuse  myself.     Go  and  fetch  the  others, 
they're  down  by  the  lake.     And  we'll  all  play  poker. 

\^He  is  just  going  to  make  an  observation,  hut 
she  hursts  in  vehemently. 


44  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 
For  God's  sake  do  as  I  ask  you. 

[He  looks  at  her.  With  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders 
he  (joes  out  into  the  cjarden.  Gkace  yives 
a  deep  sigh.  In  a  moment  Henry  Cobbett 
enters.  Grice  looks  at  him  silently  as  he 
advances  into  the  room. 

Cobbett. 

I've  been  waiting  for  the  chance  of  speaking  to  you 
by  yourself. 

Grace. 

Have  you  ? 

Cobbett. 

Why  did  you  make  me  sing  that  idiotic  song  just 
now? 

Grace. 

[Her  eyes  cold  and  hostile.^  Because  I  chose. 

Cobbett. 
You  made  me  look  a  perfect  fool. 

Grace. 
That's  what  I  wanted  to  make  you  look. 

Cobbett. 
[Surprised.']  Did  you  ?     Why  ? 

Grace. 
I  have  no  explanation  to  offer. 


LANDED  GENTRY  45 

COHBETT. 

You  know,    I'm  hanged   if  I  can   make  you   out. 
You're  never  the  .«ame  for  two  minutes  togetlier. 

Grace. 

[Frigidli/.]  I  suppose  it  is  disconcerting.     Claude 
complains  of  it  too. 

COBBETT. 

Oh,  liang  Claude. 

Grace. 

You're  growing  more  and  more  like  him  every  day, 
Harry. 

COBBETT. 

I  don't  quite  know  what  you  mean  by  that. 

Grace. 

It  seems  hardly  worth  while  to  have — made  a  long 
journey  to  find  oneself  exactly  where  one  started. 

COBBETT. 

I  never  know   what  people  are   driving  at  when 
they  talk  metaphorically. 

Grace. 

[Looking  at  him  deliberately.^  I  thought  I   loved 
you,  Harry. 

CoBBETT. 

You've  said  it  often  enough. 


46  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 

[Slowly.^  I  wonder  if  I  just  said  it  to  persuade 
myself.  My  heart's  empty!  Empty!  I  know^  now 
that  it  wasn't  love  I  felt  for  you. 

COBBETT. 

It's  rather  late  in  the  day  to  have  found  that  out, 
isn't  it? 

Grace. 

^Bitterly.']  Yes,  that's  just  it.  It's  late  in  the  day 
for  everything.  .   .  .   Here  they  are. 

[A  sound  of  talking  is  heard  as  Edith  Lewis 
ajyproaches  vnth  Helen  Yernox  and 
Claude. 

Claude. 

[At  the  window.^  I  found  them  on  their  way  back. 

Grace. 

\To  QoBB'WTT,with  a  little  bitter  laugh.]  Y^e're  going 
to  play  poker. 


END    OF    THE    FIRST    ACT 


THE  SECOND  ACT 

The  Scene  is  the  smne  as  in  the  jwecedlnj  Act.  It  is 
evening,  towards  seven  o'clock,  hut  it  is  still  perfectly 
light.  Grace  and  Peggy  Gann  are  in  the  room, 
both  standing.  Peggy  is  a  jyretty  girl,  quite 
young,  hut  very  2^cile,  loiih  black  I'ings  round  her 
eyes.  She  is  dressed  like  a  housemaid  in  her  going- 
out  things.     Grace  is  evidently  muc\  distressed. 

Peggy. 

You  will  try,  mum,  won't  you  ? 

[Peggy's  voice  seems  to  call  Grace  back  with 
a  start  from  her  own  thoughts. 

Grace. 

I  ought  to  have  been  told  before.     It  was  wicked 
to  keep  it  from  me. 

Peggy. 

I  thought  you  knew,  mum.     I  wasn't  to  know  that 
you  'adn't  been  told  anything. 

Grace. 

[With   a   friendly   smile.'\    I'm   not   blaming   yon, 
Peggy.  .  .  .  Mr.  Insoley's  out  now,  but  I'll  talk  to 
47 


48  LANDED  GENTRY 

him  as  soon  as  she  come  in.     You'd  better  go  liome 
and  fetcli  your  father. 

Peggy. 

You  know  what  father  is,  mum.  I'm  afraid  lie 
won't  come. 

Grace. 

Oil,  but  I  think  it's  very  important.  Tell  him 
that  .   .  . 

[Henry  Cobbett  comes  in,  and  she  stops  v:hen 
she  sees  him. 

Cobbett, 
HuUoa,  am  I  in  the  way  ?     Shall  I  go  ? 

Grace. 

[^Passing  her  hand  wearily  across  her  forehead.^  No. 
I've  just  finished.  .  .  .  Try  and  get  your  father  to 
come,  Peggy. 

Peggy. 

Well,  I'll  do  what  I  can,  mum. 

[She  goes  out.  Grace  gives  a  little  exclama- 
tion, partly  of  distress,  partly  of  indigna- 
tion. 

Cobbett. 
What's  the  matter  ?     Y^ou  seem  rather  put  out. 

Grace. 

That's  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  keepers.  She 
came  to  me  just  now  and  asked  me  to  beg  Claude  to 


LANDED  GENTRY  49 

give  them  a  little  more  time.  I  hadn't  an  idea  what 
she  meant.  Then  she  said  Claude  had  told  her  father 
he  must  send  her  away  within  twenty-four  hours  or 
lose  his  place. 

COBBETT. 

[Flijypanthj.^  Oh,  yes,  I  know.  She  seems  to  bo 
rather  a  flighty  young  person.  Claude  and  your 
brother-in-law  were  talking  about  it  after  lunch  in 
the  smoking-room. 

Grace. 
AVhy  didn't  you  tell  me  ? 

COBBETT. 

Well,  it  never  struck  me  you  didn't  know.  Besides 
— you  haven't  shown  any  great  desire  for  my  society 
the  last  day  or  two. 

Grace. 

\]Vith  a  quick  look  at  him.\  I've  had  other  guests 
to  attend  to. 

CoBBETT. 

[^Shrugging  his  shoulders.]  And  it  seemed  rather  a 
sordid  little  story.  I  don't  think  I  can  interest  myself 
very  much  at  this  time  of  day  in  the  gamekeeper's 
daughter  who  kicks  over  the  traces. 

Grace. 

[Sarcastically  ]  It's  so  devilish  mid- Victorian,  isn't 

it? 

D 


50  LANDED  GENTRY 

OOBBETT. 

[Stirp'ised  at  her  tone.]  It's  not  really  bothering 
you,  is  it  ? 

Grace. 

[IFi^A  a  sudden  vehement  outburst.]  Don't  you  see 
that  wretched  girl  has  done  no  more  than  I  have  ? 

COBBETT. 

[With  a  chuckle.]  Great  Scott,  you  haven't  pro- 
duced an  unexpected  baby,  have  you  ? 

Grace. 
Oh,  don't,  don't. 

COBBETT. 

[Coolly.]  In  point  of  fact  she's  done  a  great  deal 
more  than  you  have.     She's  been  found  out. 

Grace. 
How  can  you  be  so  odiously  cynical  ? 

COBBETT. 

1  notice  people  always  call  you  odiously  cynical 
when  you  talk  plain  horse-sense  to  them. 

Grace. 

Can't  you  realise  what  I'm  feeling  ?  She  had  ex- 
cuses. She  was  alone,  and  little  more  than  a  child  ; 
she  had  no  education.  How  could  she  be  expected  to 
resist  temptation  ? 


LANDED  GENTRY  51 

COBBETT. 

It's  an  absolute  delusion  that  the  lower  classes  are 
less  able  to  resist  temptation  than  their  betters.  In 
the  first  place,  they  have  a  much  more  systematic 
moral  education,  and  then  they're  taught  from  early 
youth  to  look  upon  virtue  as  a  valuable  asset. 

Grace. 

[Gomg  up  to  him  suddenbj.]  Harry,  would  you  mind 
very  much  if  I  stopped  the  whole  thing  ? 

COBBETT. 

Of  course  I  should  mind. 

Grace. 

Oh,  no,  don't  say  that  because  it's  the  conventional 
thing  to  say.     I  want  you  to  be  frank  with  me. 

COBBETT. 

[Uneasily.]  Why  do  you  ask  me  now  ? 

Grace. 

[After  a  look  at  him,  a  little  unwillingly.]  I  feel  so 
horribly  mean. 

COBBETT. 

Claude  ? 

Grace. 

[With  a  sort  of  appeal,  as  if  she  were  excusing  herself] 
He's  so  awfully  good  to  me,  Harry.  Every  present 
he  gives  me,  every  kind  word  is  like  a  stab  in  my 


52  LANDED  GENTRY 

heart.  I'm  beastly  to  him  sometimes,  I  can't  help  it, 
but  nothing  seems  to  make  any  difference  to  him.  .  .  . 
Whatever  I  do,  he  loves  me. 

COBBETT. 

Are  you  beginning  to  care  for  Claude — difierently  ? 

Grace. 

Oh,  it's  no  use  pretending.  I  never  loved  him  as 
he  loved  me.  I  couldn't.  I  was  bored  by  his  love. 
Yes,  all  the  time  we've  been  married.  .  .  .  It's  only 
lately  .  .  , 

[She  pauses  ahrwptly,  Cobbett  gives  her  a 
sidelong  glance. 

Cobbett. 
Oh! 

Grace. 

I  don't  know  what  I  feel  or  what  to  do.  I'm  so 
bewildered  and  wretched.  .  .  .  He  bores  me  still — 
oh,  horribly  sometimes.  And  yet  at  moments  I  feel 
as  though  I  were  a  good  deal  more  than  half  in  love 
with  him.  It's  too  absurd.  With  Claude — after  all 
these  years.  Something  has  changed  me.  .  .  .  It's  the 
last  thing  that  ought  to  have  changed  me  towards  him. 

[She  flushes  hotly,  and  again  Cobbett  looks 
at  her,  and  a  rather  sidky  ex2?ression  comes 
into  his  face. 

Cobbett. 

It's  not  a  very  pleasant  position  for  me,  is  it  ? 


LANDED  GENTRY  53 


Grace. 


I  shouldn't  have  thought  it  ever  had  been  a  very 
pleasant  position  considering  wliat  a  good  friend 
Claude  has  been  to  you. 

COBBETT. 

If  you  look  at  it  in  that  way,  I  daresay  it  would  be 
better  to  put  an  end  to  the  whole  thing. 

Grace. 
You  have  been  rather  a  blackguard,  haven't  you  ? 

COBBETT. 

No.  I  don't  pretend  to  be  better  than  anybody  else, 
but  I'm  quite  certain  I'm  no  worse.  I'm  a  perfectly 
normal  man  in  good  health.  It's  idiotic  to  abuse  me 
because  I've  done  what  any  other  fellow  would  have 
done  in  my  place. 

Grace. 
[^Suddenly  understanding ^^  Is   that  all   it    was   to 

Cobbett. 

What  d'you  mean  ? 

Grace. 

Wasn't  I  anything  to  you  at  all  ?  Only  a  more  or 
less  attractive  w^oman  who  happened  to  cross  your 
path  ?  If  I  was  only  that,  why  couldn't  you  leave  me 
alone  ?  What  harm  did  I  ever  do  you  ?  Oh,  it  was 
cruel  of  you.     Cruel ! 


you  ? 


54  LANDED  GENTRY 

COBBETT. 

[Quietly.]  No  man's  able  to  have  an  afiuir  all  by 
himself,  you  know. 

(I  RACE. 

What  d'you  mean  by  that  ? 

CoBBETT. 

Well,  most  fellows  are  very  shy,  and  they're  dread- 
fully frightened  of  a  rebuff.  A  man  doesn't  take 
much  risk  until — well,  until  he  finds  there's  not  much 
risk  to  take. 

Grace. 

D'you  mean  to  say  I  gave  you  to  understand  .  .  . 
Oh,  how  can  you  humiliate  me  like  that  ? 

CoBBETT. 

Isn't  there  a  certain  amount  of  truth  in  it  ? 

Grace. 

[Looking  as  it  imre  into  her  oion  souh]  Yes.  .  .  . 
Oh,  I'm  so  ashamed. 

COBBETT. 

The  world  would  be  a  jolly  sight  easier  place  to  live 
in  if  people  weren't  such  humbugs. 

Grace. 

[Hardly  able  to  believe  the  truth  that  presents  itself  to 
her^  yet  eager  i)  2}robe  it.]   D'you   think  it   was    only 


LANDED  GENTRY  55 

curiosity  on  my  side  and  nothing  more  than  oppor- 
tunity on  yours  ? 

COBBETT. 

That's  the  foundation  of  nine  love  affairs  out  of 
ten,  you  know. 

Grace, 

[Trying  to  jiLstifij  herself  in  Iter  own  eyes.]  I  was  so 
bored — so  lonely.  I  never  felt  at  home  with  the 
people  I  had  to  live  with.  They  humiliated  me.  And 
you  seemed  the  same  sort  of  person  as  I  was.  I  felt 
at  my  ease  with  you.  At  first  I  thought  you  cared  for 
the  things  I  cared  for — music  and  books  and  pictures  : 
it  took  me  quite  a  time  to  discover  that  you  didn't 
know  the  difference  between  a  fiddle  and  a  jews' 
harp.   ...  I  wonder  why  you  troubled  to  take  me  in. 

CoBBETT. 

I  naturally  talked  about  what  I  thought  would 
please  you. 

Grace. 

I  remember  at  first  I  felt  as  if  I  were  just  stepping 
out  of  a  prison  into  the  fresh  air.  It  seemed  to  me 
as  if — oh,  I  don't  know  how  to  put  it — as  if  spring 
flowers  were  suddenly  blossoming  in  my  heart. 

CoBBETT. 

I'm  afraid  you  were  asking  more  from  me  than  I 
was  able  to  give  you. 

Grace. 

Oh,  I  don't  blame  you.     You're  quite  right :  it's  I 


56  LANDED  GENTRY 

who  am  to  blame.  \^\Vith  sudden  vehemence.^  Ob,  bow 
I  envy  that  wretched  girl  !  If  she  fell  it  \vas  because 
she  loved.  I  asked  her  who  tlie  man  was,  and  she 
wouldn't  tell  me.  She  said  she  didn't  want  to  get 
him  into  trouble.     She  must  love  him  still. 

COBBETT. 

[^}foved  hij  the  pain  v^hich  he  sees  she  is  suffering.^  I 
hope  you  don't  think  me  an  awful  skunk,  Grace.  I'm 
sorry  we've  made  such  a  hash  of  things. 

GllACE. 

[Going  on  with  her  own  thoughts?^  It  would  be 
horrible  if  that  wretched  girl  were  punished  while  I 
go  scot-free.  I  can't  let  her  be  turned  away  like  a 
leper.     I  should  never  rest  in  peace  again. 

CoBBETT. 

Claude's  not  very  fond  of  going  back  on  his  word. 
He  seems  to  have  delivered  an  ultimatum,  and  I 
expect  he'll  stick  to  it. 

Grace. 

It  means  so  much  to  me.  I  feel  somehow  that  if  I 
can  only  save  that  poor  child  it'll  make  up  in  a  way 
— oh,  very  little — for  all  the  harm  I've  done.  .  .  . 
D'you  think  I'm  perfectly  absurd  ? 

Cobbett. 

Life  seems  devilish  complicated  sometimes,  doesn't 
it? 


LANDED  GENTRY  57 

Grace. 

[}Vith  a  smile.]  Devilisli. 

[T/te   sound  is  heard  of  a  carriage  stopping 
outside. 

COBBETT. 

Hulloa,  what's  that  ? 

Grace. 

It's  my  mother-in-law.  She's  been  out  for  her 
drive.  [With  a  glance  at  her  match.]  Claude  ought  to 
be  in  soon. 

COBBETT. 

What  are  you  going  to  do  ? 

Grace. 

I'm  going  to  use  every  means  in  my  power  to 
persuade  him  to  change  his  mind. 

Cobbett. 
You're  not  going  to  do  anything  foolish,  Grace  ? 

Grace. 

How  d'you  mean  ?  [His  meaning  suddenly  strikes 
her.]  You  don't  think  I  might  have  to  .  .  .  Oh,  that 
would  be  too  much  to  ask  me.  .  .  .  D'you  think  I 
might  have  to  tell  him  ? 

Cobbett. 
Whatever  you  do,  Grace,  I  want  you  to  know  that 


58  LANDED  GENTRY 

if  anything  happens  I'm  willing  to  do  the  straight 
thing. 

Grace. 

[Shaking  her  head.]  No,  I  should  never  ask  you  to 
marry  me.  Now  we  both  know  how  things  are 
between  us — how  they've  always  been.  .   .  . 

COBBETT. 

I'm  awfully  sorry,  Grace. 

Grace. 

There's  no  need  to  be.  I'm  glad  to  know  the  truth. 
Tliere  was  nothing  that  held  us  together  before  but 
my  cowardice.  I  was  so  afraid  of  going  back  to  that 
dreary  loneliness.     But  you've  given  me  courage. 

Cobbett. 
Is  there  nothing  left  of  it  at  all  ? 

G  race. 
So  far  as  I'm  concerned  nothing  at  all — but  shame. 
[Edith   Lewis  comes  in.     Grace,  recovering 
herself  quickly,  throws  off  her  seriousness 
and  greets  the  yii'l  loith  a  pleasant  smile. 

Edith. 
We've  had  such  a  lovely  drive. 

Grace. 

And  d'you  think  the  country's  as  beautiful  as 
ever? 


LANDED  GENTRY  59 

Ed  [Til. 

[Gaib/.]  Oh,  I  didn't  look  at  the  country.  I  was 
much  too  excited.  Mrs.  Insoley  has  been  telling  me 
the  dreadful  pasts  of  all  the  families  in  the  neiu;h- 
bourhood.  It  appears  the  further  they  go  back  the 
more  shocking  their  behaviour  has  been. 

COBBETT. 

I  notice  that  even  the  grossest  immorality  becomes 
respectable  when  it's  a  hundred  years  old. 

Grace. 

[Iroiikalli/.]  It's  very  hard,  isn't  it  ?  Mrs.  Grundy 
has  no  mercy.  She'll  take  even  you  to  her  bosom 
before  you  know  where  you  are. 

[JSnter  Mrs.  Insoley,  followed  hy  Miss 
Vernon  mid  Miss  Hall.  Miss  Hall  is 
carrying  Mrs.  Insoley's  lap-dog, 

Grace. 
I  hope  you  enjoyed  your  drive. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I  didn't  go  for  my  enjoyment,  Grace  ;  I  went  to 
exercise  the  horses. 

Grace. 

\_Smiling ."l  Meanwhile,  I  hear  you  took  the  oppor- 
tunity of  enlarging  Edith's  young  mind. 

Miss  Yernon, 
\To  Edith.]  \¥hen  you  come  to  Foley  you  must 


6o  LANDED  GENTRY 

remind  mo  to  sliow  you  the  portraits  of  my  great- 
grandmother,  Mary  Vernon.  She  had  a  tremendous 
affair  with  the  Regent,  you  know. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Pleasantly.]  My  dear  Helen,  I  have  the  greatest 
affection  for  you,  but  I  cannot  allow  a  statement  like 
that  to  go  unchallenged.  There  is  no  evidence  what- 
ever of  the  truth  of  it. 

Miss  Yerxox. 

I  don't  know  how  you  can  say  that,  Mrs.  Insoley, 
considering  that  I  have  all  my  great-grandmother's 
letters  to  the  Regent. 

Mrs.  Ixsoley. 

[With  a  chuckle.]  Where  are  his  letters  to  your 
great-grandmother  ? 

Miss  Yernon. 

She  gave  them  back  at  the  time  he  returned  hers, 
naturally. 

Mrs.  Ixsoley. 

I  can  see  her.  If  she  had  any  letters  she  would 
have  kept  them.     Any  woman  w^ould. 

Miss  Yerxox. 

[Bridling  a  little.]  I  can't  imagine  why  you  should 
suddenly  throw  doubts  on  a  story  that  the  whole 
county  has  believed  for  a  hundred  years.  Every  one 
knew  all  about  Mary  Yernon, 


LANDED  GENTRY  6i 

Mrs.  Ixsoley. 

[Chaffing  her.]  I  am  awaie  that  your  <(reat-gran(l- 
mother  was  an  abandoned  hussy,  but  that  in  itself 
is  no  proof  that  she  ever  had  anything  to  do  with 
the  Regent. 

Miss  Vernon. 

You  can't  deny  that  he  slept  at  Foley,  Mrs. 
Insoley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
Only  one  night. 

Miss  Vernon. 
AVell  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

It's  notorious  that  at  that  very  time  he  was  on 
terms  of  the  greatest  intimacy  with  Pamela  Bain- 
bridge.  [7o  Edith  Lewis.]  I  am  not  an  Insoley, 
thank  God  ;  I  am  a  Bainbridge.  And  whenever  he 
came  to  this  part  of  the  country  he  stayed  with  us. 

Miss  Vernon. 

I  know  you've  always  flattered  yourself  that  there 
was  something  between  them. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[With  comjylete  self-assurance.]  And  well  I  may, 
considering  that  I  still  have  a  lock  of  hair  which  he 
gave  my  grandmother. 

Miss  Vernon. 
Half  the  families  in   the  country  have  a  greasy 


62  LANDED  GENTRY 

lock  of  hair  which  they  tell  you  was  the  Regent's. 
Personally,  I  think  it's  rather  snobbish  to  make  a 
claim  of  that  sort  unless  one's  perfectly  sure. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Bridling  in  her  turn.']  I  think  you're  extremely 
rude,  Helen.  In  the  presence  of  a  man  I  can't  go 
into  details,  but  I  have  proof  of  every  word  I  say. 
You  know  what  I  mean,  Louisa? 

Miss  Hall. 

I  believed  the  worst  from  the  beginning,  Mrs. 
Insoley. 

Miss  Vernon. 

I  have  no  doubt  you  firmly  believe  what  you  say, 
Mrs.  Insoley ;  but  if  you  don't  mind  my  saying  so, 
one  has  only  to  look  at  the  portrait  of  Pamela  Bain- 
bridge  to  know  the  whole  thing's  absurd. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

\^FrigidhJ^^  We  won't  argue  the  point,  Helen ;  I 
know  I'm  right,  and  there's  an  end  of  it.  .  .  .  Put 
the  dog  on  that  chair,  Louisa. 

Miss  Hall. 
That's  Mr.  Oobbett's  chair,  Mrs.  Insoley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

\^Still  a  little  out  of  temper.']  Has  Mr.  Cobbett 
bought  it  ? 


LANDED  GENTRY  63 

COBHETT. 

No,  but  Mr.  (Jobbett's  been  sitting  in  it. 

Mrs,  Insoley. 

And  may  no  one  use  a  chair  that  Mr.  Cobbett  has 
been  sitting  in  ? 

Cobbett. 

Certainly.  But  it  so  happens  that  Mr.  Cobbett  is 
just  going  to  sit  in  it  again. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
[  With  a  grim  smile.']  Mr.  Cobbett  has  legs. 

Cobbett. 

Only  two,  and  if  a  merciful  Providence  had  in- 
tended him  to  stand  on  them  it  would  undoubtedly 
have  provided  him  with  four. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Mr.  Cobbett  seems  to  be  better  acquainted  with 
the  designs  of  Providence  than  I  should  have 
expected.  .  .  .  Louisa,  give  me  the  dog.  He  shall 
sit  on  my  lap. 

Cobbett. 

[Chaffing  her.]  Ah,  if  you'd  only  told  me  that  was 
the  alternative,  of  course  I  wouldn't  have  hesitated 
for  a  moment. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I  think  you  are  very  vulgar,  sir.  .  .  .  I'm  surprised 
that  you  should  laugh  at  such  an  inane  joke,  Grace. 


64  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 
You  forget  that  I  have  a  naturally  vulgar  nature. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
I  try  to,  but  you  take  great  pains  to  remind  me. 

[Claude  comss  in  with  Arcuibald. 

Claude. 
Well,  did  you  enjoy  your  drive,  mother  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I  didn't  go  for  my  enjoyment,  Claude ;  I  went  to 
exercise  the  horses. 

Archibald. 

We've  been  to  a  parish  meeting. 

Claude. 

[AVt^Aer^jeeyi'S'/i/y.]  It's  getting  almost  impossible  to 
do  anything  for  these  Somersetshire  people.  They're 
such  an  obstinate,  pig-headed  lot. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I  prophesied  it  forty  years  ago.  When  they  lirst 
introduced  all  this  nonsense  about  education,  I  said  it 
was  a  serious  matter. 

Archibald. 

[]Vith  a  twinkle  in  his  ei/e.]  Like  all  good  prophets 
you  apparently  took  care  to  be  rather  vague  about  it, 
mother. 


LANDED  GENTRY  65 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Considering  you  weren't  born  I  don't  see  what  you 
can  know  about  it,  Archibald.  I  said  this  would 
happen.  I  said  they  would  make  the  lower  classes  so 
independent  that  no  one  would  be  able  to  do  anything 
with  them.  I  went  for  a  walk  in  the  village  this 
morning  and  nobody  took  any  notice  of  me.  Isn't 
that  so,  Louisa  ? 

Miss  Hall. 

No,  Mrs.  Insoley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
What  do  you  mean  by  no,  Louisa  ? 

Miss  Hall. 

[Hastily.^  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  mean  yes,  Mrs. 
Insoley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

A  few  old  men  touched  their  hats,  and  one  old 
woman  curtsied,  but  that  was  all. 

Claude. 

\]Vith  a  little  nod.^  Of  course  it's  not  important  in 
itself,  but  it's  the  sign  of  a  change.  The  long  and 
short  of  it  is  that  they  don't  look  up  to  their  betters 
as  they  used  to. 

Grace. 

[Ironically.']  Perhaps  they've  ceased  to  realise  that 
we  are  their  betters. 


66  LANDED  GENTRY 

Claude. 

It's   not  too   late   to  teach   them    their    mistake. 
Personally  I  mean  to  be  master  in  my  own  house. 

Grace. 

[Ab7niptly.]  Peggy  Gann  came  to  see  me  this  after- 
noon, Claude. 

Claude. 
Did  she  ? 

[7%e7'e  is  a  very  sliort pause.  Cobbett  sees  wltat 
is  going  to  happen  and  gets  up. 

Cobbett. 

[To  Edith  Lewis.]  Wouldn't  you  like  to  come  for 
a  stroll  in  the  garden  ? 

Edith  Lewis. 
Yes. 

Grace. 
I've  asked  her  to  fetch  her  father. 

[Cobbett  and  Edith  Lewis  go  out. 

Claude. 

[Witliout  ivaitiJig  fo7' the  7noveme7it.]  I'm  sorry  you 
did  that,  Grace.     I've  got  nothing  to  say  to  him. 

Grace. 

[To  Mrs.  Insoley.]  Do  you  know  that  Claude  has 
threatened  to  dismiss  Gann  if  Peggy  hasn't  gone  by  ten 
o'clock  to-night  ? 


LANDED  GENTRY  67 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

For  once  in  his  life  Claude  has  acted  with  spirit. 
He  gave  Gann  twenty-four  hours  to  think  it  over. 
My  father  would  have  given  him  fifteen  minutes. 

Grace. 

Why  was  it  all  kept  from  me  ?  It  seems  that 
everybody  knew  but  me. 

Claude. 

Hang  it  all,  Grace,  I  wanted  to  tell  you  last  night 
and  you  wouldn't  let  me. 

Grace. 

[Startled.]  Oh!  Was  it  that?  I  didn't  know.  .  .  . 
Claude,  I  want  you  to  be  very  kind  and  forgive  that 
wretched  girl.  I  want  you  to  tell  Gann  that  she 
needn't  go. 


a^ 


Claude. 


[Quite Jir7nli/.]  My  dear,  I  can't  do  that.    I've  made 
up  my  mind  and  I  must  stick  to  it. 


Why 


Grace. 


Claude. 


Hang  it  all,  what  would  happen  to  the  discipline  of 
the  estate  if  I  were  always  shilly-shallying  ?  Every 
one  in  the  place  know^s  that  when  I  say  a  thing  I  mean 
it.     It's  an  enormous  advantage  to  all  concerned. 


68  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 

[With  a  coaxing  smile.]  It  wouldn't  do  any  harm  if 
you  made  an  exception  just  this  once. 

Claude. 

It's  a  matter  of  upholding  my  authority.  Gann 
refused  to  do  what  I  told  him,  and  I  had  to  threaten 
him  with  immediate  dismissal.  I  couldn't  eat  my 
words  now  without  looking  a  perfect  fool. 

Grace. 

Don't  you  think  it's  awfully  unjust  to  send  a  girl 
away  because  she's  got  into  trouble  ? 

Claude. 
It's  a  rule  of  the  estate.     I  didn't  make  it. 

Grace. 

[Turning  to  Miss  Yernon.]  Helen,  you're  a  woman. 
You  must  see  how  cruel  it  is.  Can't  you  say  some- 
thing to  help  me  ? 

Miss  Yernon. 

I  don't  know  what  else  one's  to  do.  After  all,  we 
have  the  same  rule  at  Foley. 

Claude. 

They  have  it  on  half  the  large  estates  in  the  king- 
dom. It's  absolutely  essential  if  one  has  any  regard 
for  decency. 


LANDED  GENTRY  69 

Miss  Vernon. 

I  don't  suppose  it  would  be  so  common,  and  it 
certainly  wouldn't  have  lasted  so  long,  if  there  hadn't 
been  some  good  in  it. 

Grace. 

[Violently.]  Oh,  it's  maddening.  Always,  always, 
there's  that  stone  wall  in  front  of  me.  Whatever  is, 
is  good.  However  cruel  and  unjust  a  custom  is,  no 
one  must  touch  it  because  it's  a  custom.  If  a  law  is 
infamous,  does  it  become  any  less  infamous  because 
people  have  suffered  from  it  for  a  dozen  generations  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Perhaps  you're  not  very  competent  to  judge  matters 
of  this  sort,  my  dear. 

Archibald. 

I'm  afraid  your  sympathy  is  rather  wasted  in  this 
particular  case.  Peggy  Gann  isn't  a  very  deserving 
young  woman. 

Grace. 

If  she  were,  there'd  be  no  need  for  me  to  plead  for 
her. 

Mrs,  Insoley. 

On  those  lines  the  more  of  a  hussy  a  girl  is  the 
more  she's  deserving  of  sympathy. 

Grace. 

[To  Archibald.]  You  had  nothing  against  her  till 
this  happened. 


70 


LANDED  GENTRY 


Archibald. 

Nothing  very  definite.  She  was  always  rather 
cheeky,  and  she  never  came  to  Sunday-school  very 
regularly. 

Grace. 
Is  that  all  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
My  own  belief  is  that  the  Ganns  are  really  Dissenters. 

Grace. 

[Iinpatiently.^  Good  heavens,  they  positively  revel 
in  going  to  church. 

Mrs.  Insoley, 

That  may  be  or  it  may  not.  But  they  give  me  the 
impression  of  chapel  people. 

Archibald. 

Heaven  knows,  I  don't  want  to  seem  hard  and  un- 
sympathetic, but  after  all,  you're  not  going  to  keep 
people  moral  if  you  j)amper  thote  who  aren't. 

Grace. 

And  what  d'you  think'll  happen  to  her  if  you  make 
her  leave  here  ? 

Archibald. 

We'll  do  our  best  for  her.  It's  not  a  pleasant 
position  for  any  of  us,  Grace.  I've  been  wretched 
about  the  whole  thing,  and  I'm  i-uie  Claude  has  too. 


LANDED  GENTRY  71 

Claude. 

Of  course  I  have.  But  hang  it  all,  in  our  position 
we  can't  aftbrd  to  think  of  sentiment.  Especially  now 
that  they're  attacking  us  all  round  we've  got  to  show 
them  that  we  can  keep  a  firm  hand  on  the  reins. 

Archibald, 

Do  us  the  justice  to  see  that  we're  really  trying  to 
do  what's  right.  It  may  be  very  wrong  that  we 
should  be  in  our  particular  positions,  and  we  may  be 
quite  unworthy  of  them.  But  we  didn't  make  society, 
and  we're  not  responsible  for  its  inequalities.  We 
find  ourselves  in  a  certain  station,  and  we  have  to 
act  accordingly. 

Claude. 

The  long  and  the  short  of  it  is  that  it's  our  duty 
to  look  after  those  whom  Providence  has  placed  in 
our  charge.  And  it's  our  duty  to  punish  as  well  as 
to  reward. 

Grace. 

Oh,  how  hard  you  are !  One  would  think  you'd 
never  done  anything  in  your  life  that  you  regret. 
[With  increasing  violence.^  Oh,  you  virtuous  people,  I 
hate  you.  You're  never  content  till  you  see  the  sinner 
actually  frizzling.  As  if  hell  were  needed  when  every 
sin  brings  its  own  punishment !  And  you  never  make 
excuses.  You  don't  know  how  many  temptations  we 
resist  for  the  one  we  fall  to. 

Miss  Vernon. 
Grace  !     What  are  you  saying  ! 


72  LANDED  GENTRY 

[Grace,  almost  beside  herself,  looks  at  Iter  with 
haggard  eyes.  Suddenly  sJ  e  gives  a  start, 
and  stares  at  Miss  Vernon  ivith  horror. 
She  has  realised  that  Miss  Vernon  knoios 
the  relations  that  have  existed  hetiveen  her 
and  Henry  Cobbett.  Thei^e  is  a  ;;o2(se. 
The  Butler  comes  in. 

Moore. 
Gann  and  his  daughter  are  here,  sir. 

Claude. 
Oh,  yes,  I'll  come  at  once. 

Moore. 

Very  good,  sir. 

[He  goes  out. 
Mrs.  Insoley. 

Why  shouldn't  he  come  here,  Claude  ? 
Grace. 

Yes,  let  him  come  by  all  means.  And  then  you 
can  see  for  yourselves. 

Archibald. 

I'll  tell  Moore,  shall  I  ?  [He  goes  to  the  door  as  he 
sdys  this  and  calls.]  Moore.    Tell  Gann  to  come  here. 

Miss  Vernon. 

[Rising.]  I  think  I'll  leave  you.  This  isn't  any 
business  of  mine.  [To  Miss  Hall  ]  Will  you  come 
with  me  ? 


LANDED  GENTRY  73 

Miss  Hall, 
Do  you  want  me,  Mrs.  Insoley  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

No.  You've  had  no  exercise  to-day,  Louisa.  You'd 
better  walk  three  times  round  the  garden. 

Miss  Hall. 
I'm  not  very  well  to-day,  Mrs.  Insoley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Oh,  nonsense  !  You're  in  the  best  of  health.  And 
you  can  take  the  dog  with  you. 

Miss  Hall. 
Very  well,  Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Miss  Vernon  and  Miss  Hall  go  out. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Louisa's  very  troublesome  sometimes.  She  fancies 
she's  not  feeling  well.  But  she's  twenty- five  years 
younger  than  I  am,  and  I've  never  had  a  day's  illness 
in  my  life. 

[Moore  opens  the  door  for  Gann,  who  comes  into 
the  room,  cap  in  hand,  and  stands  at 
the  door  awkwardly.  He  is  in  his  working 
clothes. 

Claude. 

Good  afternoon,  Gann. 


74  LANDED  GENTRY 

Gann. 

Good  afternoon,  sir.  Peggy  said  you  wished  to  see 
me,  sir. 

Grace. 

/  asked  her  to  bring  you  here,  Gann.  I  thought 
it  would  be  better  if  you  spoke  to  Mr.  Insoley. 

Gann. 
I've  got  nothing  to  say  to  Mr.  Insoley,  ma'am. 

Claude. 

I  was  hoping  to  find  you  in  a  more  reasonable  state 
of  mind,  Gann.  You  know,  you  can  only  hurt  your- 
self by  being  pig-headed  and  stubborn. 

Gann. 
I  didn't  know  as  how  I  was,  sir. 

Claude. 

[To  Grace.]  You  see,  the  man  doesn't  give  me  a 
chance. 

Gann. 

[Making  an  effort  on  himself.]  Please,  Squire,  I 
come  to  know  if  I'm  really  to  go  to-morrow  ?  I  know 
you  said  you'd  send  me  away,  Squire.  But  I  couldn't 
bring  myself  to  believe  you  meant  it. 

Claude. 

I'm  willing  to  listen  to  anything  you've  got  to  say. 
I  want  to  be  quite  fair  to  you. 


LANDED  GENTRY  75 

Gann. 

If  I  could  only  make  you  see  as  what  you  ask  ain't 
possible,  I'm  sure  you'd  let  us  stay.  There's  nowhere 
Peggy  can  go  to. 

Claude. 

Hang  it  all,  Mrs.  Insoley'il  do  all  she  can  for  her. 

You  may  be  quite  sure  that  Peggy  shan't  want  for 
money. 

Gann. 

It  isn't  money  the  girl  wants.  If  I  send  'er  away 
she'll  just  go  to  the  bad  altogether. 

Claude. 

You  see,  it's  a  matter  of  principle,  Gann.  It  would 
be  devilish  unjust  to  make  an  exception  in  your 
favour. 

Gann. 

[Stepjnng  forinard  with  surly  indignation  and  facing 
Claude.]  I  love  the  girl  and  I  can't  bear  to  part 
with  'er.  She's  a  good  girl  in  her  'eart,  only  she's  had 
a  misfortune. 

Claude. 

That's  all  very  fine  and  large,  Gann.  But  if  she'd 
been  a  good  girl,  hang  it  all,  she'd  have  had  power  to 
resist  temptation. 

Grace. 

\Terrijied?^  Claude,  you  don't  know  what  you're 
saying. 


76  LANDED  GENTRY 

Claude. 
I  don't  want  to  rub  it  in  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
but  my  own  feeling  is  that  if  she  came  rather  a 
cropper,  it  was  because  she  was — if  you  don't  mind 
my  saying  so — because  she  was  that  way  inclined.  I 
don't  think  anyone  can  accuse  me  of  being  a  hard 
man,  but  I'm  afraid  I  haven't  much  pity  for  women 
who  .  .  . 

Grace. 

[Interrupting.]     Claude,    don't   go    on — for    God's 


Gann. 

That's  your  last  word.  Squire  ?  If  the  girl  don't  go, 
I  must? 

Claude. 
I'm  afraid  so. 

Gann. 

I've  served  you  faithful,  man  and  boy,  for  forty 
years.  And  I  was  born  in  that  there  cottage  I  live  in 
now.  If  you  turn  us  out  where  are  we  to  go  to  ?  I'm 
getting  on  in  years,  and  I  shan't  find  it  easy  to  get 
another  job.     It'll  mean  the  work'us. 


Claude. 

I'm    very   sorry.     I    can't    do   anything   for    you. 

You've  had  your  chance  and  you've  refused  to  take  it. 

[Gann  tui^iis  his  cap  round  nervously.     His 

face  is  distorted  with  agony.     He  ojjenshis 

mouth  to  speak,  hut  no  words  come,  only  an 

inarticulate  groan.     He  turns  on  his  heel. 


LANDED  GENTRY 


Claude. 


77 


In  consideration  of  your  Jong  service  I'll  give  you 
fifty  pounds  so  that  you  can  tide  over  the  next  feu- 
months. 

Gann. 

[Violently.']  You  can  keep  your  dirty  money. 

[He  goes    out.      Grace   goes   up   to   Claude 
desjyerately. 

Grace. 

Oh,  Claude,  you  can't  do  it.  You'll  break  the 
man's  heart.  Haven't  you  any  pity  ?  Haven't  you 
any  forgiveness  ? 

Claude. 

It's  no  good,  Grace.  I  must  stick  to  what  I've 
said. 

Grace. 

It's  not  often  I've  begged  you  to  do  anything 
for  me. 

Claude. 

Well,  hang  it  all,  this  is  the  first  time  I've  ever 
refused. 

Grace. 

[Bitterly. 1  I  suppose  because  I've  never  asked  you 
for  anything  before  that  wasn't  absolutely  trifling. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
Why  are  you  making  such  a  point  of  it,  Grace  ? 


78  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 

Is  it  very  strange  that  I  shoukl  feel  sorry  for  any- 
one who's  in  distress  ? 

Claude. 

I'll  do  anything  in  the  world  to  please  you,  darling, 
but  in  this  case  you  must  trust  to  my  better 
judgment. 

Grace. 
How  can  you  be  so  hard  ? 

Claude. 

Come,  Grace,  don't  be  angry  with  me.  It's  bad 
enough  as  it  is. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I  ■  have  no  patience  with  you,  Claude.  When 
your  father  made  up  his  mind  to  do  anything  it  was 
done,  and  it  would  never  have  occurred  to  me  to 
oppose  him. 

Archibald, 

[With  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.]  You  forget,  mother, 
that  was  because  you  generally  made  up  my  father's 
mind  some  time  before  he  did. 

Grace. 

[To  Mrs.  Insoley  and  Archibald.]  Will  you 
leave  me  alone  with  Claude.  I  must  talk  to  him 
alone. 


LANDED  GENTRY  79 

Arcuibald. 

Come,  mother.  Let  me  take  you  for  a  stroll  three 
times  round  the  garden. 

[Mrs.  Insoley  cmd  Archibald  go  out. 

Grace. 

I  couldn't  say  it  before  them.  They'd  never 
understand.  They'd  only  sneer.  But  can't  you  see, 
Claude,  that  it's  out  of  the  question  to  drive  Gann 
away  so  callously  ?  He  loves  the  place  just  as  much 
as  you  love  it.  ...  In  my  heart  I  seem  to  feel 
suddenly  all  that  his  shabby  little  cottage  means  to 
him — the  woods  and  coverts  and  the  meadows  and 
the  trees.  His  life  is  bound  up  with  Kenyon.  His 
roots  are  in  the  earth  as  if  he  were  a  growing 
thing.  Can't  you  see  what  it  must  mean  to  him  to 
leave  it  ? 

Claude. 

He  only  goes  because  he's  headstrong  and  obsti- 
nate. He's  the  Somersetshire  peasant  all  over.  You 
do  your  best  for  them  and  you  get  no  gratitude. 
You  try  to  reason  with  them,  but  you  can't  get  a 
single  idea  into  their  thick  heads. 

Grace. 

You  can't  punish  him  because  he's  stupid  and  dull. 
You're  throwing  him  upon  the  world  in  his  old  age. 
It  means  starvation. 

Claude. 

You  must  know  that  I'm  only  doing  it  because  I 
think  it's  my  duty. 


So  LANDED  GENTRY 


Grace. 


[rmpatie7itl7/.]  Oh,  men  always  talk  of  their  duty 
when  they  want  to  be  odiously  cruel. 

Claude. 
Grace,  how  can  you  be  so  unkind  to  me  ? 

Grace. 

Oh,  Claude,  if  you  love  me  at  all,  give  in  to  me 
this  time.  You  don't  know  what  it  means  to  me. 
I've  often  been  horrible  to  you,  but  I'm  going  to  be 
different.  I  want  to  love  you.  I  w^ant  to  be  more 
to  you  than  I've  ever  been.  Claude,  I  implore  you 
to  do  what  I  ask  you — just  because  I  ask  it,  because 
you  love  me. 

Claude. 

\Withdraiinng  himself  a  little.^  I  could  not  love  you, 
dear,  so  much,  loved  I  not  honour  .  .  . 

Grace. 

[^Interrupting  passionately ^^  Oh,  no,  don't,  Claude ; 
for  God's  sake  be  sincere  and  natural.  Can't  you 
forget  that  you're  a  landed  proprietor  and  a  J. P. 
and  all  the  rest  of  it,  and  remember  that  you're  only 
a  man,  as  weak  and  as — as  frail  as  the  rest  of  us  ? 
You  hope  to  be  forgiven  yourself,  and  you're  utterly 
pitiless. 

Claude. 

My  darling,  it's  just  as  much  for  your  sake  that 
I'm  firm. 


LANDED  GENTRY 


Grace. 


[Impatiently.^  Oh,  how  can  you  make  phrases ! 
What  on  earth  have  I  got  to  do  with  it? 

Claude. 

Hang  it  all,  don't  you  see  that  it's  because  of  you 
that  I  can't  give  way  ?  It's  beastly  having  to  say  it. 
It  makes  me  feel  such  an  ass. 

Grace. 

[Beginning  to  he  frightened.^  What  have  I  got  to 
do  with  it  ? 

Claude. 

Until  I  knew  you  I  don't  suppose  I  had  a  higher 
opinion  of  women  than  most  men,  but  you  taught  me 
what  a — what  a  stunning  fine  thing  a  good  woman  is. 

Grace. 

[Hoa/rsely.^  It's  perfectly  absurd.  It's — it's  un- 
reasonable. I've  not  been  .  .  .  Only  the  other  day 
you  said  I  was  cold.  And  just  now  you  told  me  I 
was  unkind. 

Claude. 

I  dare  say  that's  all  my  fault.  I  expect  I  bore  you 
sometimes.  After  all,  I  know  you're  worth  about  six 
of  me.     I  can't  expect  you  to  love  me  as  I  love  you. 

Grace. 

D'you  mean  to  say  that  if  I  weren't — what  you 
think  me,  you  wouldn't  insist  on  that  poor  girl  going 
away  ? 


82  LANDED  GENTRY 

Claude. 

I  don't  suppose  I  should  feel  quite  the  same 
about  it. 

Grace. 

[^Trying  to  keep  hcick  her  sohs?^  It's  so  unreason- 
able. 

Claude. 

Even  if  it  weren't  for  the  rule  of  the  estate,  I 
couldn't  let  her  live  in  the  same  place  as  you.  I 
can't  help  it.  It's  just  a  sort  of  instinct.  It  simply 
disgusts  me  to  think  that  you  may  meet  that — that 
woman  when  you  walk  about,  and  her  kid. 

Grace. 
Oh,  Claude,  you  don't  know  what  you're  saying. 

Claude. 

When  I  heard  she'd  been  here  and  you'd  been  talk- 
ing to  her,  I  felt  almost  sick. 

Grace. 
\Breaking  dow7i.]  Oh,  I  can't  bear  it. 

Claude. 

Come,  darling,  don't  let's  quarrel  any  more.  It 
hurts  me  so  awfully. 

Grace. 
[To  hei'self.]  Oh,  I  can't.     I  can't. 


LANDED  GENTRY  83 

Claude. 
Say  you  forgive  me,  darling. 

Grace. 

I?  ...  If  I  weren't  what  you  .  .  .  Oh,  it's  too 
much  to  ask  anyone.  Claude,  I  beseech  you  to  give 
Avay. 

[He  shakes  his  head.    She  falls  hack  in  despair, 
realising  that  there  is  no  way  to  move  him. 

Grace. 

Oh,  what  a  punishment ! 

\The  sound  of  a  gong  is  heard.    Claude  looks 
at  his  watch. 

Claude. 

By  Jove,  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late.  There's  the 
dressing  gong.     You  must  hurry  up. 

Grace. 
[Looking  at  him  vaguely.^  What  is  it  ? 

Claude. 

Time  to  dress  for  dinner,  darling.  You  won't  be 
late,  will  you  ?  You  know  how  mother  hates  to  be 
kept  waiting. 

Grace, 

[Dully.']  No,  I  won't  be  late. 

[He  takes  her  hand  and  presses  ity  then  hurries 
out.     She  has  given  him  her  hand  inertly, 


84  LANDED  GENTRY 

and  it  falls  heavily  to  her  side  as  he  drops 
it.  She  remains  standing  lohere  he  left 
her.  She  tries  to  stifle  the  tearless  sohs  that 
seem  to  choke  her.     The  Butler  comes  in. 

Moore. 

Peggy  Gann  wishes  to  know  if  you  want  to  see  her 
again,  madam. 

Grace. 

[With  a  start.]  Has  she  been  waiting  all  this  time  ? 

Moore. 

Yes'm.     She  didn't  know  as  Gann  had  left.     He 
never  come  back  to  the  servants'  hall. 

Grace. 
Tell  her  to  come  here. 

Moore. 
Yery  good,  madam. 

[ffe  goes  out.     In  a  moment  he  opens  the  door 
for  Peggy  Gann. 

Grace. 

Oh,  Peggy,  how  ill  you  look !    I've  been  able  to  do 
nothing  for  you. 

Peggy. 

[With  a  cry  of  distress.]  Oh,  mum,  I  was  hoping. 
You  said  you'd  do  your  best  for  me. 


LANDED  GENTRY  S5 

Grace. 
My  dear,  I'm  so  dreadfully  sorry  for  you. 

Peggy. 

It's  so  'ard  on  me,  mum,  and  so  'ard  on  father. 
"Wasn't  there  something  more  you  could  do,  mum  ? 

Grace. 

[With  a  little  gasp  of  anguish.]  I  did  all  I  could.  I 
couldn't  do  anything  more.  I  couldn't  really.  .  .  . 
[Ahnost  to  herself.]  It's  too  much  to  ask  anyone. 

Peggy. 

I've  got  to  go  then,  and  there's  an  end  of  it.  You 
won't  let  father  be  turned  away,  will  you,  mum? 
That's  all  I  care  about  now.  It  'ud  just  break  his 
'eart. 

Grace. 

[With  a  ray  of  hope.]  D'you  think  he'll  let  you  go? 
I  think  it's  the  best  thing  after  all,  Peggy.  I've 
done — I've  done  all  I  could. 

Peggy. 

No,  he  won't  hear  of  it.  But  I  shall  go  all  the 
same — somewhere  he  can't  find  me. 

Grace. 

[Anxious  now  to  Tnahe  the  best  of  it.]  I  dare  say  it 
won't  be  for  very  long,  Peggy.  Have  you  as  much 
money  as  you  want  ?  I  should  like  to  do  something 
for  you. 


86  LANDED  GENTRY 


Peggy. 


I  shan't  want  anything,  thank  you,  mum.  And 
thank  you  for  all  you've  done.  And  if  anything  come 
to  'appen  to  me,  you'd  see  as  the  baby  wasn't  sent  to 
the  workhouse,  wouldn't  you,  mum  ? 

Grace. 
How  d'you  mean  ?     I  don't  understaiid. 

Peggy. 

I'm  not  going  to  take  the  baby  with  me,  mum.  It 
would  only  be  a  hindrance. 

Grace. 

[With  a  sigh  of  relief.^  Oh,  I  was  so  afraid  you 
meant  .  .  . 

Peggy. 

Is  there  anything  else  you  want  me  for,  mum  ? 

Grace. 
No,  Peggy. 

Peggy. 

Then  I'll  say  good  evening,  mum, 

Grace. 
Good  evening,  Peggy. 

[Site  ^catches  Peggy  go  out,  then  site  gives  a 
little  moan  of  despair. 


LANDED  GENTRY  87 

Grace. 
No,  I  couldn't,  I  couldn't. 

Edith  Lewis  comes  in  gaihj. 

Edith  Lewis. 

There  you  are !  I  thought  you  were  in  your  room 
Your  maid  said  you  hadn't  come  up  yet. 

Grace. 
[Wearily .^^   I  was  just  going. 

Edith  Lewis. 

[With  a  smile.^  I've  got  something  dreadfully 
important  to  ask  you. 

Grace. 
[Forcing  a  smile^  What  is  it  ? 

Edith  Lewis. 

Well,  I  want  to  know  if  you're  going  to  wear  the 
grey  satin  you  wore  on  Saturday.  You  see,  I  only 
brought  three  dinner  dresses  down  with  me,  and  one 
of  them's  a  grey,  only  it's  much  more  slaty  than  yours, 
and  it'll  look  so  cold  beside  it.  So  I  shan't  put  it  on 
if  you're  going  to  wear  yours. 

Grace. 
[Dully. ^  No,  I  won't  wear  my  grey  satin. 

Edith  Lewis. 
What  are  you  going  to  wear  ? 


88  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 
I  don't  know. 

Edith  Lewis. 

But  you  must  know. 

Grace. 
Does  it  matter  ? 

Edith  Lewis. 
I  don't  want  to  clash  with  you. 

Grace. 

[Olenching  her  hands  to  jjrevent  herself  from  scream- 
ing^ I  won't  put  on  anything  that'll  interfere  with 
your  grey. 

Edith  Lewis. 

Thank  you.  JSI'ow  I  can  be  quite  happy.  I  say, 
we  shall  be  so  late. 

\She  runs  off.  Grace  gives  a  Utile  answering 
laugh  to  hers ;  and  as  Edith  Lewis  goes 
out,  it  lengthens  into  a  mirthless,  low, 
hysterical  peal,  broken  loith  sobs. 

end  of  the  second  act 


THE  THIRD  ACT 

[The  dinijig-room  at  Kenyon  Fulton.  It  is  a  fine  room 
toith  French  loindoios  leading  into  the  garden.  On 
the  walls  are  departed  Insoleys  of  the  last  tv)o  or 
three  generations^  stiff  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the 
Victorian  era,  military -looking  fellows  in  the 
uniform  of  the  early  niiieteenth  century,  and 
ungainly  Georgian  squires  with  their  ivives  in 
2)owde7'ed  hair.  Between  the  windows,  standing 
well  away  from  the  wall,  rather  far  hack,  is  a 
round  table  laid  out  for  breakfast.  O71  the 
Sheraton  sideboard  is  a  cloth,  a  stand  for  kee2ying 
dishes  ivarm,  a  large  ham,  and  plates  and  forks 
and  spoons.  Against  the  wall  oj^posite  the  side- 
board are  a  row  of  chairs,  and  there  are  half  a 
dozen  chairs  round  the  table.  There  are  doors 
right  and  left. 

It  is  the  morning  after  the  events  which  occur  in  the 
Second  Act,  and  when  the  curtain  rises  prayers 
have  just  finished.  Claude  is  seated  at  the  table 
with  an  immense  prayer-book  and  a  still  larger 
Bible  in  f^ont  of  him.  The  rest  of  the  party  are 
rising  to  their  feet.  They  have  been  kneeling 
against  various  chairs.  They  consist  of  Mrs. 
Insoley,  Miss  Hall,  and  Miss  Vernon.  Well 
away  from  them,  emphasising  the  fact  that  even 
the  Almighty  must  recoanise  the  diference  between 
89' 


90  LANDED  GENTRY 

the  gentry  and  their  inferiors,  have  been  praying 
the  servants.  Tkey  have  been  kneeling  against  the 
row  of  chairs  that  line  the  ivall,  according  to  their 
precedence,  ranging  from  the  Cook  at  one  end  to 
the  Butler  at  the  other  ;  and  they  consist  of  the 
Cook,  o6ese,  elderly  and  respectable,  Mrs. 
Insoley's  Maid,  two  Housemaids,  the  Kitchen- 
maid,  the  Footman,  and  Moore  the  butler.  When 
they  have  scrambled  to  their  feet  they  pause  for  a 
moment  to  gather  themselves  together,  and,  headed 
by  the  Cook,  walk  out.  The  Butler  takes  the 
Bible  and  the  prayer-book  off  the  table  and  carries 
them  away.  Claude  gets  up.  He  takes  up  his 
letters  and  the  Times,  which  he  pmts  under  his 
arm. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
I  didn't  see  Grace's  maid,  Claude. 

Claude. 
I  dare  say  Grace  couldn't  spare  her. 

Mrs.  Insoley, 

If  Grace  were  more  punctual  she  wouldn't  be 
obliged  to  deprive  her  maid  of  the  pleasure  and  the 
duty  of  attending  morning  prayers. 

Miss  Hall. 
I  didn't  see  your  maid  either,  Miss  Yernon. 

Miss  Vernon. 
She's  a  Roman  Catholic. 


LANDED  GENTRY  91 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
A  Papist,  Helen  ?     Isn't  that  very  risky  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 
Good  gracious  me,  why  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
Aren't  you  afraid  she'll  corrupt  the  other  servants  ? 

Mrs.  Yernon. 

[  With  a  smile.]  She's   a  highly  respectable    person 
of  well  over  forty. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

She  must  be  very  flighty.     I  would  as  soon  have 
an  atheist. 

Miss  Hall. 

I  would   never  dream  of   having  a  Romish  maid 
myself. 

Mrs,  Insoley. 
Is  there  any  likelihood  of  your  having  a  maid  at 

Miss  Hall. 


all,  Louisa  ? 


No,  Mrs.  Insoley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

In  that  case  I  can't  quite  see  what  is  the  use  of 
your  having  an  opinion  on  the  subject. 


92  LANDED  GENTRY 

Claude.  m. 

[Looking  up  from  his  letters,  loith  a  smile.^  Miss 
Hall  was  only  making  a  general  reflection. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I  don't  like  general  reflections   at    the  breakfast 
table. 

[During  the  next  few  speeches  the  Butler  and 
the  Footman  coine  in  with  covered  entree 
dishes  lohich  they  jiut  on  the  sideboard, 
coffee  and  milk  in  silver  jmts,  and  tea. 
They  go  out.  Claude  retires  to  the  vnndow 
to  read  his  letters. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
I  suppose  you  have  prayers  at  Foley,  Helen  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 

I'm  afraid  I  don't.     It  makes  me  feel  rather  shy 
to  read  them. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I  don't  see  why  it  should.     It  doesn't  make  me 
feel  shy. 

Miss  Hall. 

You  read  them  so  well,  Mrs.  Insoley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I  never  forget  while  I'm  reading  them  that  I'm  a 
woman  of  birth  and  a  woman  of  property. 


LANDED  GENTRY  93 

Miss  Verxon. 
And  then  I  always  think  the  servants  hate  them. 

Mrs.  Ixsoley. 

The  more  they  hate  them,  the  better  it  is  for  them. 
That  is  life,  my  dear  Helen.  It's  a  very  good  thing 
to  begin  the  day  by  making  it  distinctly  under- 
stood that  masters  are  masters  and  servants  are 
servants. 

Miss  Hall. 
And  I  think  servants  like  that,  Mrs.  Insoley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

It  is  not  a  matter  of  interest  to  me  if  they  like  it 
or  not,  Louisa.  I  have  the  authority  of  my  maker 
for  it,  and  that  is  quite  enough  for  me. 

Henry  Cobbett  comes  in. 

COBBETT. 

I'm  sorry  I'm  late. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

When  breakfast's  at  ten  o'clock  I  cannot  imagine 
why  people  shouldn't  be  punctual. 

Cobbett. 

Neither  can  I.  [Going  to  the  sideboard.]  Let's  have 
a  look  at  the  food. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
See  if  there's  anything  I'd  like,  Louisa. 


94  LANDED  GENTRY 

COBBETT. 

[Taking  off  the  covers.']  There's  fried  sole — eggs  and 
bacon.  I 

Mrs.  Insoley.  " 

The  staple  of  every  middle-class  hotel  in  the 
kingdom. 

COBBETT. 

And  devilled  kidneys. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I'll  begin  with  fried  sole,  and  then  I'll  have  eggs 
and  bacon,  Louisa. 

Claude. 

\Comi7ig  foriuard,']  Oh,  I'm  sorry.  Is  there  any- 
thing I  can  get  you  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Chaffing  herfellow-guest^^  And  then,  if  Mr.  Cobbett 
has  left  any,  perhaps  I'll  see  if  I  can  eat  a  devilled 
kidney. 

Cobbett. 

[  With  a  chiwkle.]  Mr.  Cobbett  thinks  he'll  have  to 
look  nippy  to  get  anything  at  all. 

Claude. 

[To  Miss  Yernon.]  I  wonder  what  I  can  tempt 
you  with  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 
I  think  I'll  have  some  fried  sole. 


LANDED  GENTRY  95 

Claude. 

That's  the  beauty  of  the  country.  One  does  relish 
one's  breakfast,  doesn't  one  ? 

[He  hands  a  plate  to  Miss  Vernon,  and  sits 
down  with  another  for  himself.  As  he  does 
this  he  takes  the  Times  from  under  his 
arm  and  sits  on  it. 

Miss  Vernon, 

[  With  a  smile  at  his  peculiaritf/.]  Is  there  anything 
in  the  Times,  Claude  ? 

Claude. 
I  haven't  read  it  yet. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

In  some  ways  you're  much  more  of  a  Bainbridge 
than  an  Insoley,  Claude.  My  father  used  always  to 
sit  on  the  Times  so  that  no  one  should  read  it  before 
him. 

Claude. 

I  must  say  I  don't  like  to  have  my  paper  messed 
about  by  a  lot  of  people  before  I've  had  a  chance  of 
looking  at  it.  Half  the  pleasure  of  reading  the  Times 
is  reading  it  first.  Besides,  the  Morning  Post  and  the 
Mail  are  on  the  sideboard  for  anyone  who  wants 
them. 

Edith  Lewis  comes  in. 

Edith. 

Oh,  I  know  I'm  dreadfully  late.  Everybody's 
going  to  scold  me.     And  I'm  so  sorry. 


96  LANDED  GENTRY 

COBBETT. 

[Imitating  Mrs.  Insoley.]  When  breakfast's  at 
ten  o'clock  I  cannot  imagine  why  people  shouldn't 
be  punctual. 

Edith. 

[Smiling P[  Isn't  Grace  down  yet  ?  [To  Claude,  u'Ao 
rises  to  give  her  something  to  eat.]  No,  don't  bother. 
I'll  help  myself. 

Mrs.  Ixsoley. 

When  I  was  mistress  of  this  house  breakfast  was 
served  punctually  at  eight  o'clock  every  morning. 

COBBETT. 

[Flippantly.]  It  must  have  seemed  just  like  supper. 
Did  you  have  it  the  last  thing  before  going  to  bed  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I  made  no  exceptions.  The  day  after  my  cousin 
James  broke  his  neck  in  the  hunting-field  and  was 
brought  to  this  very  house  on  a  stretcher,  I  came 
down  as  the  clock  struck.  And  a  very  hearty  break- 
fast I  ate  too. 

COBBETT. 

Perhaps  he  didn't  leave  you  anything. 

Mrs.  Insoley.  - 

[With  a  chuckle.]  On  the  contrary,  he  left  me  all  his   \ 
debts. 

Enter  Grace. 


LANDED  GENTRY  97 

Grace. 
Good  mornirg. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Good  afternoon,  Grace. 

Grace. 

Am  I  late  ?     I  think  punctualty's  the  most  detest- 
able of  all  the  virtues. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
It's  a  royal  virtue,  my  dear. 

Grace. 

In  that  case,  as  a  member  of  the  middle  chxsses, 
it's  not  surprising  that  I  don't  practise  it. 

Claude. 
What  can  I  get  you,  darling  ? 

I  Grace. 
Is  there  anything  nice  to  eat  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
\]Vith  a  grim  smile.^  That  is  a  matter  of  opinion. 

Claude. 
There's  fried  sole  and  eggs  and  bacon. 

Grace. 

Oh,   I    don't  think  I'll   have  anything.     I'll  just 
have  some  tea  and  toast. 


98  LANDED  GENTRY 

Claude. 
My  dear,  you're  not  off  your  feed,  are  you  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Grace  has  probably  been  stuffing  herself  with  bread 
and  butter  in  her  room.  I  have  no  patience  with 
the  new-fangled  custom  of  giving  people  tea  when 
they  wake  up.     I  never  give  it  to  my  guests. 

COBBETT. 

Then  don't  ask  me  to  come  and  stay  with  you. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Delighted  ivith  the  opportunity  he  has  given  her.^  It 
may  surprise  you,  but  I  have  no  intention  of  doing  so. 

COBBETT. 

[Cheerfully.^  There  now.  And  I  thought  I'd  made 
such  an  impression  on  you,  Mrs.  Insoley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

That's  why  I  couldn't  risk  asking  you  to  stay  with 
me.  Perhaps  at  my  age  I  am  safe  from  your  blandish- 
ments, but  Louisa  is  extremely  susceptible. 

Miss  Hall. 

Oh,  Mrs.  Insoley,  how  can  you  !  Why,  Mr.  Cobbett 
must  be  ten  years  younger  than  I  am. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
I  should  put  it  at  fifteen. 


LANDED  GENTRY  99 

COBBETT. 

Don't  dash  my  hopes  to  the  ground,  Miss  Hall.  I 
was  flattering  myself  you  didn't  look  upon  me  alto- 
gether with  indifference. 

[Archibald    Insoley    comes    m    from    the 
garden. 

Archibald. 

Ah,  I  thought  I'd  find  you  still  at  breakfast. 

Claude. 

We're  a  lazy  lot.     I  suppose  you've  been  up  and 
about  for  the  last  two  hours. 

Grace. 
[^Looking  at  him.\  Is  anything  the  matter  ? 

Archibald. 
Yes. 

Claude. 

I  thought  you  looked  a  bit  odd. 

Archibald. 

A  most  awful  thing  has  happened.     I've  only  just 
heard  of  it. 

Claude. 

[Getting  up  from  his  chair.]  What  is  it,  old  man  ? 

[Bi/  this  time  the  breakfasters  are  disturbed  ; 
there  is  a  certain  embarrassment  about 
them ;  they  are  suffering  from  the  awk- 
wardness i^eople  feel  when  they  see  some  one 


lOO  LANDED  GENTRY 

in  a  condition  of  distress,  hut  do  not  sup- 
2J0se  it  has  anytJting  to  do  with  themselves. 

Archibald. 

You'd  better  come  along  with  me  to  the  smoking- 
room. 

Grace. 

It's  too  late  to  make  a   secret  of    it,   Archibald. 
You'd  better  tell  us  all. 

Claude. 
Fire  away,  old  man. 

Archibald. 

[^After   a   moment'^s  hesitation.^    P^ggy    Gann    has 
killed  herself. 

[Grace  springs  to  her  feet  with  aery. 

Claude. 

[Looking  at  Grace.]  My  God. 

[GnkCEi  comes  forvmrd^,  horror  on  her  face,  and 
vxdks  unsteadily  to  a  chair.  She  sinks  into 
it  and  stares  in  front  of  her. 

Claude. 
Why  on  earth  did  she  do  it  ? 

Grace. 
How  horrible  ! 

Claude. 

^oing  up  to  her,   about  to  put   his  hand  on   her 
shoidder.^^  Grace. 


LANDED  GENTRY  foi 

Grace. 

\^\Vith  a  shiver.^  Don't  touch  me. 

[//e  stops  and  looks  at  her,  jmzzled  and  un- 
happy. 

Arcuibald. 

You'd  better  come  along, 

Claude, 

\]Vith  his  eyes  on  Grace.]    I  feel   I  ought  to  do 
something.     I  don't  know  what  to  do. 

Archibald, 
I'm  afraid  there's  nothing  much  that  can  be  done. 

G^LAUDE. 

I'd  better  go  and  see  Gann,  hadn't  I? 

Mrs.  Insole y. 

Won't  you  finish  your   breakfast  before  you   go, 
Claude  ? 

Claude. 

Oh,  I  can't  eat  anything  more, 

[i/e  goes  out  ivith  Archibald. 

Miss  Hall. 
What  a  dreadful  thing. 

[Grace  gets  up  and  goes  to  the  window. 


I02  LANDED  GENTRY 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Where  are  you  going,  Grace  ? 

Grace. 

[Almost  beside  hey^self.]  For  heaven's  sake,  leave  me 
alone. 

[/She  stands  vnth,  her  back  to  the  rest  of  the 
party,  looking  out  of  the  ivindoiv.  There 
is  a  little  avjkward  j^ctuse. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Louisa,  get  me  some  of  those  devilled  kidneys  that 
Mr.  Cobbett  has  been  making  so  much  fuss  about. 

COBBETT. 

Let  me. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Louisa  will  get  them.     She  likes  to  wait  on  me 
herself.     Don't  you,  Louisa  ? 

Miss  Hall. 
Yes,  Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Miss  Vernon  2mshes  back  her  chair. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
Have  you  finished,  Helen  ? 

Miss  Yernon. 
Yes. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
You've  eaten  nothing. 


LANDED  GENTRY  103 

Miss  Vernon. 
I  couldn't. 

[Miss  Yernon  looJcs  as  if  she  were  going  to 
speak  to  Grace,  but  she  changes  her  mind 
and  TYierely  sits  doimi  in  another  chair. 
Every  now  and  then  she  looks  trp  at 
Grace. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I  cannot  imagine  why  anyone  should  be  upset 
because  an  abandoned  hussy  has  been  so  wicked  as  to 
destroy  herself. 

COBBETT. 

Well,  it  hasn't  taken  my  appetite  away,  at  all 
events. 

Mrs.  Insoley, 

If  we  were  honest  with  ourselves,  Mr.  Cobbett,  we 
should  acknowledge  that  nobody's  death  is  important 
enough  to  interfere  with  one's  appetite. 

Miss  Hall, 
Oh,  Mrs.  Insoley,  how  can  you  say  such  a  thing? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Louisa,  I've  been  like  a  mother  to  you  for  ten  years. 
Would  you  eat  one  potato  less  for  your  dinner  if  I 
were  found  dead  in  my  bed  to-morrow  morning? 

Miss  Hall. 

[Taking  out  her  handkerchief.]  Oh,  yes,  Mrs. 
Insoley.     I  really,  really  would. 


104 


LANDED  GENTRY 


Mrs  Insoley. 


[Touched.]^  You  are  a  good  girl,  Louisa,  and  you 
may  have  that  black  lace  shawl  of  mine.  If  you 
mend  it  carefully,  it'll  last  you  for  years. 

Miss  Hall. 

Oh,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Insoley.  You  are  so  kind 
to  me. 

Edith. 

D'you  think  I  ought  to  offer  to  go  away  to-day  ? 
I  was  going  to  stay  till  to-mori  ow. 

COBBETT. 

I  was  going  to-day  in  any  case.  I'm  due  to  stay 
with  some  people  in  Wiltshire. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
You  seem  to  be  in  great  demand. 

COBBETT. 

I  have  a  very  pleasant  fund  of  small  talk. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I'm  afraid  this  is  not  an  occasion  upon  which  you'll 
find  it  of  any  use. 

[^There  is  a  moment's  pause. 

Edith. 
I'm  going  into  the  garden. 


LANDED  GENTRY  105 

COBBETT. 

(Jome  on.     I'm  dying  for  a  smoke. 

[She  gets  uj)  and  walks  out  through  the  French 
windows.     Cobbett/oZ?oi(?s  her. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

\Getting  iq)  from  the  tahle.']  I  think  you  should 
remember,  my  dear  Grace,  that  suicide  is  not  only 
very  wicked,  but  very  cowardly.  I  have  no  patience 
with  the  sentimentalities  of  the  present  day.  Our 
fathers  buried  people  who  were  sinful  enough  to 
destroy  themselves  at  the  cross-roads  with  a  stake  in 
their  insides.     And  it  served  them  right. 

[Grace  does  not  ansiver.  Mrs.  Insoley,  luith 
a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  walks  out  of  the 
room,  folloived  by  Miss  Hall.  As  soon 
as  Grace  hears  the  door  shut  she  turns 
round  with  an  exclamation^  half -smothered, 
of  imiMtient  anger. 

Grace. 

Oh,  did  you  hear  ?  They  have  the  heart  to  chatter 
like  that  when  that  unhappy  girl  is  lying  dead.  They 
haven't  a  word  of  pity.  It  seems  to  mean  nothing  to 
them  that  she  sacrificed  herself.  If  she  died,  it  was  to 
save  her  father,  so  that  he  shouldn't  be  thrown  out  of 
work  in  his  old  age.  And  they  call  her  wicked  and 
sinful. 

Miss  Yernon. 

Bat  is  that  anything  new  to  you  ?  Haven't  you 
noticed  that  people  always  rather  resent  the  heroism 


lo6  LANDED  GENTRY 

of  otheio  ?  They  don't  like  the  claim  it  makes  on 
theTJi,  and  the  easiest  way  to  defend  themselves  is  with 
a  sneer. 

Grace. 

I  might  have  saved  her  life  if  I'd  chosen,  but  I 
hadn't  the  courage. 

Miss  Vernon. 

[A/i^aid  that  she  is  going  to  hlurt  out  a  secret  ichich 
had  much  better  not  he  referred  to^  Grace,  don't  be 
stupid. 

Grace. 

Once  I  suspected  what  she  was  going  to  do,  but  she 
was  too  clever  for  me.  I  so  wanted  to  believe  it  was 
all  right.     I  wanted  her  to  go  away  quietly. 

Miss  Vernon. 

[^Trying  to  calm  her.]  Lots  of  women  have  been  in 
difficulties  before,  and  they  haven't  killed  themselves. 
There  must  have  been  some  kink  in  her  nature.  I 
suppose  the  instinct  of  life  wasn't  so  strong  as  it  is 
with  most  of  us,  and — and  she  would  have  com- 
mitted suicide  for  almost  any  reason. 

Grace. 

There  w^as  only  one  thing  to  say,  and  I  didn't  say  it. 
I  couldn't. 

Miss  Vernon. 

My  dear,  for  heaven's  sake  pull  yourself  together. 


LANDED  GENTRY  107 

Grace. 

D'you  know  why  Claude  was  so  determined  she 
should  go  ?  Because  he  couldn't  bear  that  /  should 
come  in  contact  with  a  woman  who'd  done  wrong. 

Miss  Vernon. 

[Looking  down.]  I  had  an  idea  that  was  at  the  back 
of  his  mind. 

Grace. 

[With  sudden  suspicion.]  Why  should  you  know 
what  Claude  feels  better  than  I  do  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 

[Feai'ing  she  has  given  herself  away.]  It  was  a  mere 
guess  on  my  part. 

Grace. 

[With  a  keen  look  at  heo'.]  "When  I  asked  you  the 
other  day  whether  you'd  been  very  much  in  love  with 
Claude,  you  wouldn't  answer. 

Miss  Vernon. 

[Smiling.]  I  really  thought  it  was  no  business  of 
yours. 

Grace. 

[Gravely.]  Are  you  in  love  with  him  still  ? 

[Miss  Vernon  is  about  to  break  out  indignantly, 
but  quickly  controls  herself. 

Miss  Vernon. 
Yes,  I  suppose  I  am. 


io8  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 
Much? 

Miss  Yernox. 
Hoarsely.^  Yes. 

[  There  is  a  pause. 
Grace. 

D'you  know  that  my  mother-in-law  would  give  half 
her  fortune  to  know — what  you  know  ?  She's  been 
on  the  look-out  to  trip  me  up  for  years.  It  only  wants 
a  hint,  and  she  can  be  trusted  to  make  the  most  of  it. 

Miss  Yerxon. 

My  dear,  I  haven't  a  notion  what  you're  talking 
about. 

Grace. 

[With  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders.]  How  did  you  find 
out'^ 

[Miss  Yernox  looks  at  her/or  a  moment,  then 
looks  away  in  embarrassment. 

Miss  Yerxox. 

I  suspected  before.  In  those  circumstances  hardly 
any  men  seem  able  to  help  a  sort  of  proprietary  air. 
He  rather  gave  it  away,  you  know.  .  .  .  And  then 
yesterday  I  felt  quite  certain. 

Grace. 
I'm  in  your  hands.     What  are  you  going  to  do  ? 

Miss  Yerxox. 

My  dear,  what  can  I  do?  Claude  wouldn't  love  me 
more  because  he  loved  you  less. 


LANDED  GENTRY  109 

Grace. 
You  must  utterly  despise  me. 

Miss  Vernon. 
No.   ...  I  feel  awfully  sorry  for  Claude. 

Grace. 

[Almost  jealously.']  Claude's  your  first  thought 
always. 

Miss  Vernon. 

He's  been  the  whole  world  to  me  since  I  was  a  girl 
of  sixteen. 

Grace. 
Is  that  why  you  never  married  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 
I  suppose  it  is. 

Grace. 

I  never  dreamt  that  anyone  could  care  for  Claude 
like  that.  I  suppose  you  see  something  in  him  that 
I've  never  seen.  .  .  .  He  has  a  hundred  difierent 
ways  of  getting  on  my  nerves. 

Miss  Vernon. 

You  see,  I'm  not  irritated  by  the  mannerisms  that 
irritate  you. 

Grace. 
[Reflectively^  Real  love  accepts  them,  I  suppose. 


LANDED  GENTRY 


Miss  Yernon. 


It  wants  them  even  because  it's  something  indi- 
vidual to  cling  to.  .  .  .  And  then  it  laughs  at  them 
a  little,  and  the  best  love  of  all  includes  a  sense  of 
humour. 

Grace. 

It's  made  me  feel  so  strange  to  know  that  you  love 
him,  Helen.  It's  given  him  something  that  he's 
never  had  before. 

Miss  Vernon. 

I  don't  suppose  any  woman  likes  her  husband  less 
because  she  knows  that  another  woman  is  eating  her 
heart  out  for  him. 

Grace. 

[Slowhj.]  I  wonder  if  I've  misjudged  him  all 
these  years.  .  .  .  D'you  think  I  found  him  shallow 
because  there  was  no  depth  in  me,  and  narrow  be- 
cause I  was  narrow  myself. 

[Enter  Claude  Insoley.     Grace  turns  to  him 
quickly. 


Did  you  see  Gann 


Grace. 


Claude. 


[Touching  the  hell.]    No,  he  wasn't  at  the  cottage. 
I've  sent  for  him  and  told  him  to  come  here.  i 


LANDED  GENTRY  in 

Grace. 
They  know  where  he  is  then  ? 

Claude. 

Yes,  worse  luck.     He's  been  soaking  at  the  public- 
house  since  it  opened. 

Miss  Vernon. 
But  when  did  it  happen  ? 

Claude. 
Peggy,  d'you  mean  ?     She  did  it  last  night. 

Grace. 

Last  night  ?  But  why  have  we  only  just  heard 
of  it? 

Claude. 

[Deephj  discouraged.^  Because  they  don't  come  to 
us  any  more  when  they're  in  trouble.  They  keep  it 
to  themselves.  [Moore  answers  the  bell. 

Claude. 

Oh,  Moore,  when  Gann  comes  let  me  know.  I'll 
come  and  see  him  at  once. 


Moore. 


He's  here  now,  sir. 


Claude. 
Is  he  ?     I  didn't  expect  him  yet.     All  right. 


I 


LANDED  GENTRY 


Grace. 


Won't  you  let  him  come  liere,  Claude?  I  should 
like  to  speak  to  him  too. 

Claude. 

I  don't  think  you'd  better  see  him  if  he's  been 
drinking.  He  may  be  going  to  make  himself  rather 
objectionable. 

Grace. 

I  must  say  to  him  what  I've  got  on  my  heart, 
Claude. 

Claude. 
Very  well.  [To  Moore.]  Tell  Gann  to  come  here. 

Moore. 
Very  good,  sir.  [Uxit. 

Miss  Verxon. 
I  dare  say  you'd  like  me  to  leave  you. 

Grace. 
You  don't  mind,  do  you  '4 

[With  a  shake  of  the  head  and  a  smile  Miss 
Vernon  goes  out.  Claude  looks  a  little 
uncertainly  at  his  wife.  He  seeks  for 
something  to  say. 

Claude. 

What  a  nice  woman  that  is  !  I  can't  imagine  why 
Archibald  doesn't  hurry  up  and  marry  her. 


LANDED  GENTRY  113 

Grace. 
Perhaps  he's  not  in  love  with  her. 

Claude. 
Any  man  in  his  senses  would  be  in  love  with  her. 

[Grace  does  not  answer,  hut  she  gives  him 
a  curious  glance.  Moore  opens  the  door 
to  show  Gann  in.  Gann  is  dishevelled 
and  untidy,  his  face  haggard  and  drawn. 
He  is  not  exactly  drunk,  hut  he  is 
stupefied,  pai'tly  with  liquor  and  imrtly 
with  grief.  He  carries  his  gun.  He 
comes  in,  his  cap  on  his  head,  and  stands 
clumsily  near  the  door. 

Claude. 

Take  off  your  cap,  Gann. 

[Gann  looks  at  him  unsteadily  and  slowly 
takes  off  his  cap. 

Gann. 
Did  you  want  to  speak  to  me,  Squire  ? 

Claude. 

I've  just  been  round  to  your  cottage,  Gann.  I  saw 
Peggy.  ...  I  want  to  tell  you  how  awfully  sorry  I 
am  for  what's  happened.    I  can  never  forgive  myself. 

[Gann  steps  forward  with  a  lurch  and  faces 
Claude. 


114  LANDED  GENTRY 

Gann. 

What  d'you  want  me  for  ?  Couldn't  you  let  me  be  ? 
D'you  still  want  me  to  go  ? 

Claude. 
No.     That's  what  I  wanted  to  tell  you. 

Gann. 

Give  us  time  and  we'll  clear.  We  don't  want  long. 
Give  us  time  to  bury  the  girl.     That's  all  we  want. 

[Grace  gives  an  eocclamation  of  horror, 

Claude. 

I  hope  you'll  stay.  I  want  to  do  everything  I  can  | 
to  make  up  for  your  loss.  I  want  you  to  know  that  " 
I  blame  myself  most  awfully. 

Gann. 
Will  that  bring  'er  back  to  life,  d'you  think? 

Claude. 

I'd  give  anything  for  this  horrible  accident  not  to 
have  happened.  [With  a  look  at  Grace ^  I'm  afraid  it's 
my  fault. 

Gann. 

She  killed  'erself  so  as  I  shouldn't  be  turned  off.    1 
That's  why  she  killed  'erself.     You're  a  hard  master 
— you  always  was.     She  thought  it  was  the  only  way 
to  save  me  from  the  work'us. 


i 


LANDED  GENTRY  115 

Claude. 

[  Veiy/  aivkwardhj.]  In  future  I'll  try  to  be  diflferent. 
I  didn't  think  I  was  hard.    I  thought  I  was  only  just. 

Grace. 

It  was  a  cruel  rule. 

Claude. 
I  thought  I  was  only  doing  my  duty, 

Gann. 

She  was  a  good  girl,  after  all,  Squire,  a  good  girl. 

Claude. 
I'm  sure  she  was. 

Gann. 

It's  easy  enough  for  you  people  to  keep  straight. 
You  don't  'ave  temptations  like  we  'ave. 

Claude. 

No,  that's  true  enough.     I  suppose  it's  not  really 
very  hard  for  us  to  be  moderately  decent. 

Grace. 
[In  a  choking  voice.]  Where  is  the  child  now,  Gann? 

Gann.  * 

[Violently.]    D'you   want   that    too?       Ain't    you 
satisfied  yet  ?     Has  the  child  got  to  go  before  I  stay  ? 


ii6  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 

No,   no.     I   only    wanted    to   know  if   there   was 
anything  I  could  do.     I  wanted  to  help  you. 

Gann. 

I  don't  want  your  'elp.     I  only  want  you  to  let  me 
work  and  earn  my  wages. 

Claude. 
That  you  shall  do,  I  promise  you. 

Gann. 
Can  I  go  now  ?    I've  got  a  deal  to  do  this  morning. 

Claude. 

Yes.  .  .  .  Will  you  shake  hands  with  me  before 
you  go  ? 

Gann. 
What  good  '11  that  do  you  ? 

[Claude  gives  a  gesture  of  discouragement. 

Claude. 

I  can  only  repeat  that  I'm  most  awfully  sorry. 
I'm  afraid  there's  absolutely  nothing  I  can  do  to 
make  up  for  your  great  loss.  .  .  .  You  can  go  now. 

[Gann  ^urns  to  go,  while  Claude  and  Grace 
watch  him  silently.  Suddenly  he  comes 
hack  and  thrusts  his  gun  into  Claude's 
hand. 


LANDED  GENTRY  117 

Gann. 

Look  'ere,  Squire,  you  take  my  gun.  I  ain't  fit  to 
keep  it. 

Claude. 

[Shao'ply.]  What  the  devil  d'you  mean  ? 

Gann. 

Last  night  when  the  liquor  was  in  me  I  swore  I'd 
blow  your  brains  out  and  swing  for  it.  Don't  let  me 
'ave  the  gun.  I'm  not  fit  to  keep  it  yet.  If  I  get  on 
the  drink  again  I'll  kill  you. 

Claude. 

What  the  dickens  d'you  mean  by  speaking  to  me 
like  that !  Of  course  you  must  have  your  gun.  I 
can't  allow  you  to  neglect  your  work. 

Grace. 
[Almost  in  a  whis2}e7\]  Claude,  take  care 

Claude. 
[Looking  at  the  lock.]  Why  isn't  it  loaded  ? 

Gann. 

They  took  the  cartridges  out.  I  was  about  mad, 
and  I  don't  know  what  I  said.  If  I'd  come  across 
you  then — you  wouldn't  be  standing  where  you  are 
now. 


ii8  LANDED  GENTRY 

Claude. 

I  suppose  you  take  eights  ? 

[Grace  and  Gann  both  look  at  Jam.  Grace 
gives  a  start  lohen  she  7'ealises  ivhat  he  is 
going  to  do. 

Gann. 

That's  right. 

[Claude  nods  and  goes  to  the  door.  He  hesi- 
tates, with  a  look  at  Grace. 

Grace. 
I  shall  be  all  right. 

[He  goes  out.  In  a  moment  he  comes  back  ivith 
two  cartridges.  He  puts  them  in  the  gun, 
and  hands  it  hac^c  to  the  gamekeeper. 

Claude. 

Here  you  are.     I  don't  think  I'm  afraid.     I'll  take 
my  chance  of  your  wanting  to  shoot  me. 

[Gann  takes  the  gun,  and  his  hands  close  round 
it  convidsively .  He  half  raises  it .  Claude 
goes  to  the  door  through  which  he  has  just 
come,  and  closes  it.  Then,  almost  mastered 
by  the  temptation,  Gann  pulls  himself 
together  and  advances  a  step  toivards  his 
master.  Ghace  gives  a  stijled  cry.  Claude 
turns  round  and  faces  the  man. 

Claude. 

That'll  do,  Gann.     I  don't  think  I    have  anything 
more  to  say  to  you.     You  can  go. 


LANDED  GENTRY  119 

[Gann  struggles  to  command  himself.  His 
fingers  itch  to  shoot,  hut  Claude's  uncon- 
cern prevents  him. 

Gann. 

By  God  ! 

[lie  turns  round  to  go,  and  flings  the  gun 
violently  from  him. 

Claude. 

[Peremptorily.']  Gann,  take  your  gun. 

[The  man  stops,  looks  at  his  master,  and  then, 
cowed,  picks  it  up.  lie  lurches  heavily  out 
of  the  room.  There  is  a  pause.  Grace 
drav)S  a  long  breath. 

Grace. 
I'm  glad  you  did  that,  Claude. 

Claude. 

[Thinking  she  refers  to  his  attempts  at  apology.]  It 
was  very  difficult  to  know  what  to  say  to  him. 

Grace. 

I  didn't  mean  that.     I  meant,  I'm  glad  you  made 
him  take  the  gun. 

Claude. 

Oh !  Hang  it  all,  you  didn't  think  I  was  likely  to 
be  frightened  of  one  of  my  own  servants,  did  you  i 


I20  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace, 

[hi  a  loio  z'oice.]   I  was  rather  afraid  he  was  going 
to  slioot  you. 

Claude. 

So  was  I.     But  I  felt  pretty   sure  he  saw  two  of 
me,  and  I  thought  he'd  probably  shoot  at  the  wrong        j 
one.  ! 

Grace. 

You're  very  plucky.  . 

Claude.  ' 

Rot!  [He  hesitates  for  a  moment.]  Grace,  I'm  afraid 
you  think  I've  been  an  awful  skunk. 

Grace. 

[With  a  quick  look  at  hiiii.]  We  none  of  us  knew 
anything  like  this  was  going  to  happen. 

Claude. 
Will  you  forgive  me  ? 

Grace. 
[Startled.]  I  ? 

Claude. 

I've  been  feeling  such  an  aw^ful  cad.  If  I'd  only  I 
done  what  you  wanted  me  to,  this  wouldn't  have  ^ 
happened. 

Grace, 

That's  not  your  fault.    I  didn't  say — what  I  should 
have  said  to  make  you  change  your  mind. 


i 


LANDED  GENTRY  121 

Claude. 

It  rather  put  my  back  up  that  you  should  be  so  set 
on  letting  Peggy  stay.  But  it  struck  me  afterwards, 
of  course  you  couldn't  feel  the  same  about  it  as  I  did. 
I  think  if  one's  awfully  straight,  one's  full  of  charity, 
don't  you  know. 

Grace. 

My  dear  Claude,  you  talk  as  if  I  were  a  girl  of 
eighteen. 

Claude. 

I  don't  suppose  you  remember,  but  when  Archibald 
told  us,  I  wanted  to  say  something  to  you  .  .  . 

Grace. 
Yes,  your  first  thought  was  for  me,  wasn't  it  ? 

Claude. 

[Going  on.]  And  I  came  near  you.  And — and  you 
sort  of  shuddered,  and  said  :  "  For  God's  sake,  don't 
touch  me  ! " 

Grace. 

I'm  sorry.     I  didn't  mean  to  be  unkind. 

Claude. 

No,  I  know  you  didn't.  It  just  came  out  unaw^ares. 
And — oh,  Grace,  I  couldn't  bear  to  think  you — you 
couldn't  stick  me,  don't  you  know.  ...  I  suppose  I'm 
a  damned  fool,  but  I  haven't  made  you  hate  and  loathe 
nie,  have  I  ? 


2  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 
I'm  not  wortli  so  much  troubling  about,  Claude. 


Claude. 

I  can't  help  it.  You've  just  somehow  got  in  my 
blood  and  bones,  and  if  it  didn't  sound  such  drivel, 
I'd  say  you  meant  everything  in  the  world  to  me. 
Only  you  just  laugh  at  me  when  I  say  things  like 
that. 

Grace. 

[Explaining  to  Jierself  rather  than  to  him.^  It's 
very  hard  for  all  of  us  to  say  what  we  mean.  The 
words  we  use  are  so  frayed.  One  ought  to  guess 
at — at  the  soul  within  them. 


Claude. 

I've  been  trying  to  think  about  Gann  and  his 
daughter,  but  I  can't  really  think  of  anything  but 
you. 

Grace. 

You  know,  Claude,  no  one's  so  wonderful  as  you 
think  me.  I'm  no  longer  so  young  as  all  that,  and 
you're  the  only  person  who  ever  thought  me  very 
pretty. 

Claude. 

I  don't  mind.  Sometimes,  so  that  my  love  should 
mean  more  to  you,  don't  you  know,  I've  wanted  you 
to  get  older  quickly,  and  I've  wanted  you  to  be  plain. 


LANDED  GENTRY  123 

Grace. 

[With  a  little  hysterical  laugh.]  Oh,  my  dear,  what  a 
horrible  prospect. 

Claude. 

Don't  laugh  at  me  now,  Grace. 

Grace. 

[With  tears  in  her  voice.]  I'm  not  laughing  at  you. 
God  knows  I'm  not  laughing  at  you. 

Claude. 

I'm  such  an  ass  at  explaining  myself.  What  I 
Avant  to  make  you  understand  is  that  I  don't  love 
you  for  anything  that  other  people  could  love  you 
for.  I  love  you  because  you're  you,  don't  you  know. 
Because  you're  so  awfully  good  and  straight.  And 
you  know  I  respect  you  so  awfully. 

Grace. 
[loi  a  hoarse  voice.]  I'm  not  good,  Claude. 

Claude. 

If  I  didn't  believe  it,  I  should  think  the  world  a 
pretty  rotten  place. 

Grace. 

I  haven't  been  the  sort  of  wife  you  wanted.  I  felt 
that  always. 

Claude. 

You've  been  the  only  woman  in  the  world  for  me. 
Always. 


124  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 

[Deeply  moved.]  Not  many  women  can  say  that, 
can  they  ?     One  ought  to  be  very  grateful. 

Claude. 
D'you  remember  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  you  ? 

Grace. 

[Looking  away  from  him?^  I  wonder  you  didn't 
marry  Helen  Yernon  years  before  you  came  across 
me. 

Claude. 

Hang  it  all,  why  on  earth  should  I  have  done  that ! 

Grace. 
Your  mother  was  very  anxious  that  you  should. 

Claude. 

I  was  just  as  little  in  love  with  Helen  Yernon  as 
she  was  in  love  with  me. 

Grace. 

I  can't  help  seeing  that  she  would  have  made  you 
a  much  better  wife  than  I  have.  She  would  have 
understood  you.  I  don't  think  I  ever  understood 
yoi.     I've  been  a  wretched  failure,  Claude. 

Claude. 

Darling,  how  can  you  talk  such  rot  ? 

Grace. 

She  might  have  had  children.  You  wanted  them 
so  much,  Claude,  and  I  haven't  given  you  any. 


LANDED  GENTRY  125 

Claude. 
That's  been  hard  luck  on  both  of  us,  darling. 

Grace. 

[With  deep  feeling.]  It  might  have  made  all  the 
difference. 

Claude. 

If  I  wanted  children  it  was  chiefly  because  I 
thought  you'd  be  happier.  You  wouldn't  have 
minded  the  dull  life  down  here  then.  And  you 
might  have  cared  a  bit  more  for  me  because  I  was 
their  father. 

Grace. 

It  all  comes  back  to  me,  doesn't  it?  I'm  in  all 
your  thoughts  always. 

Claude. 
D'you  mind  ? 

Grace. 
I'm  so  ashamed. 

[Archibald  comes  in  from  the  hall. 

Archibald. 

Oh,  Claude,  I  met  the  coroner's  officer  on  my  way 
along  here.     He  wants  to  see  you. 

Claude. 
All  right.     I'll  come.     Is  he  in  the  hall  ? 


126  LANDED  GENTRY 

Archibald. 

[With  a  7iod.]  I  told  him  you  knew  nothing  more 
than  I'd  said.  But  I'm  afraid  they'll  call  you  at  the 
inquest. 

Claude. 
The  only  thing's  to  grin  and  bear  it. 

[Theij  go  out.  Grace  sinks  into  a  chair  at  the 
writing -table  and  buries  her  face  in  her 
hands.  In  a momentHE^nY  Cobbett enters. 
She  starts  itp  when  she  hears  his  footstep 
on  the  gravel.  He  has  his  hat  i7i  his  hand 
and  his  coat  over  his  arm. 

COBBETT. 

I'm  just  starting.  I  was  looking  for  you  to  say 
good-bye. 

Grace. 

Is  it  time  for  you  to  go  already  ?  I  didn't  know  it 
was  late. 

COBBETT. 

Thanks  awfully  for  putting  me  up.  It's  been 
perfectly  topping. 

Grace. 

It  was  nice  of  you  to  come.  I  hope  you'll  run 
down  again  one  of  these  days. 

COBBETT. 

[In  a  lower  tone.]  I  suppose  you  never  want  to  set 
eyes  on  me  again. 


LANDED  G ENTRY  127 

Grace. 
Never, 

COBBETT. 

You're  not  awfully  unhappy,  are  you  ? 

Grace. 

[With  something  between  a  sob  and  a  chuckle.] 
Awfully. 

COBBETT. 

I'm  dreadfully  sorry. 

Grace. 
That  doesn't  do  me  much  good,  does  it  ? 

Cobbett. 

If  there's  anything  I  can  do,  I'd  like  awfully  to  do 
it  if  you'd  let  me. 

Grace. 

No,  whatever  happens  no  one  can  help  me  but 
myself. 

Cobbett. 

I  shouldn't  have  played  the  fool  if  I'd  thought  you 
were  going  to  take  things  so  much  to  heart. 

Grace. 

[Ironicalhj.]  That's  the  nuisance  of  women,  isn't 
it  ?  They  will  make  an  affair  of  what's  really  only 
an  episode. 


128  LANDED  GENTRY 

COBBETT. 

You  have  a  way  of  saying  things  that  makes  one 
feel  an  awful  bounder.  After  all,  one  can't  help 
falling  in  love,  and  one's  not  a  blackguard  because 
one  falls  out  of  it. 

Grace. 

D'you  remember  asking  me  yesterday  if  I  was 
beginning  to  care  for  Claude  differently  ? 

CoBBETT. 

Yes. 

Grace. 

I  love  him  as  I  never  thought  it  was  possible  to 
love.  I  don't  know  why  I  love  him.  It's  come  to 
me  suddenly.  I — oh,  I  can't  tell  you  what  it  is. 
It's  like  hunger  in  my  soul.     And  I'm  frightened. 

COBBETT, 

I  should  have  thought  that  made  everything  all 
right. 

Grace. 

It's  come  too  late.  I'm — soiled.  Afterwards — 
you  know  what  I  mean,  when  you  and  I — the  first 
thing  I  felt  was  surprise  because  I  found  myself  no 
different.  I  thought  when  a  woman  had  done  that 
everything  would  seem  altered.  But  I  felt  just  the 
same  as  before.  It's  only  now.  It's  like  the  stain  of 
blood — don't  you  remember — not  all  the  perfumes  of 
Arabia  .   .  . 


LANDED  GENTRY  129 

COBBETT. 

[Worried  and  moved.]  You  know,  it's  absurd  to 
take  it  like  that. 

Grace. 

[With  increasing  agitation.]  Oh,  what  have  I  done  ! 
If  I'd  only  had  the  strength  to  resist !  It's  now  that 
I  see  it  all,  the  utter  degradation  of  it,  the  hateful 
ugliness.  Oh,  I  loathe  myself.  How  can  I  take  my 
heart  to  Claude  when  there's  you  standing  between 
us? 

COBBETT. 

I'm  awfully  sorry,  Grace. 

Grace. 

I'd  give  anything  in  the  world  if  I  hadn't  done 
what  I  have  done.  I  might  be  so  happy  now.  I  haven't 
a  chance.  The  fates  are  against  me.  What's  the 
good  of  loving  Claude  now — I'm  not  fit  to  be  his 
wife. 

[She  is  beside  herself.  Cobbett,  not  knowing 
what  to  do,  stands  looking  at  her. 
The  sound  is  heard  of  a  motor-horn  blow- 
ing. 

Cobbett. 
[With  a  slight  start.]  What's  that? 

Grace. 

It's  Rooney.  He's  afraid  you'll  miss  the  train. 
You'd  better  hurry  up, 

1 


130  LANDED  GENTRY 

COBHETT. 

I  can't  leave  you  like  this. 

Grace. 

[I^'onicalli/.]    I   shouldn't   like  you  to    miss    your 
train. 

COBBETT. 

I  suppose  you  hate  and  loathe  me. 

Grace. 

I'd  wish  you  were   dead,  only  it  wouldn't  do  me 
much  good,  would  it  ? 

CoBBETT. 

[Bejlectivehj.]  The  fact  is,  only  the  wicked  should 
sin.  .  .  .   When  the  virtuous  do  things  they  shouldn't    i 
they  do  make  such  an  awful  hash  of  it. 

[Moore  comes  in  followed  hy  the  Footman. 

Grace, 
What  is  it  ? 

MoORE. 

I  was  going  to  clear  away,  madam. 

Grace. 

Oh,  yes,  I  forgot.  [Holding  out  her  hand  to  Cobbett.] 
You'll  have  to  look  sharp. 

END   OF    THE   THIRD    ACT 


THE  FOURTH  ACT 

The  Scene  is  the  same  as  in  the  first  and  second  Acts, 
the  drawing-room  at  Kenyon- F%dton. 

Two  days  have  elapsed.  It  is  about  twelve  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  Mrs.  Insoley  is  seated  vrith  her 
dog  on  her  lap,  and  Miss  Hall  is  reading  the 
leading  article  of  the  Times  to  her. 

Mlss  Hall. 

\Reading.^^  "...  to  whom  it  would  give  the  suffrage 
are  marked  oft'  from  all  citizens  who  have  ever  and 
anywhere  enjoyed  the  franchise  in  great  civil  com- 
munities by  physical  difterences  which  no  legislation 
can  aftect.  Women,  they  insist,  pay  rates  and  taxes 
as  men  do,  and  therefore,  they  argue,  women  ought 
to  vote  as  men  do.  But  rates  and  taxes  may  be 
imposed  or  abolishei  by  legislation.  Men  may  become 
ratepayers  and  taxpayers,  or  cease  to  be  ratepayers 
and  taxpayers.  The  one  thing  that  no  enthusiasm, 
no  reasoning,  no  eloquence,  demonstrations,  or  statutes 
can  achieve  is  to  make  a  woman  a  man," 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
How  true  tliat  is,  Louit^a. 
131 


132  LANDED  GENTRY 

Miss  Hall. 

I've  always  thought  exactly  the  same  myself,  Mrs. 
Insoley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

And  there's  another  thing,  Louisa.  No  man  can 
become  a  mother. 

Miss  Hall. 
[Reflectively.]  No,  I  suppose  not. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
Have  you  any  doubts  on  the  subject,  Louisa  ? 

Miss  Hall. 
Oh,  no,  Mrs.  Insoley. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Iroiiicalli/.]  You  may  take  it  from  me  that  no 
man  can  become  a  mother.  And  apparently  very  few 
women  either  nowadays. 

[Archibald  Insoley  comes  in, 

Archibald. 

Good  morning,  mother. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
Good  morning,  my  dear. 

[Ue  hends  down  and  kisses  her. 


LANDED  GENTRY  133 

Archibald. 
Good  morning,  Miss  Hall. 

Miss  Hall. 


Good  morning. 


Mrs.  Insoley. 


Louisa,  you  may  read  the  rest  of  that  article  to 
yourself  in  the  garden. 

Miss  Hall. 

[Getting  up.]  Very  well,  Mrs.  Insoley.  Shall  I 
take  the  dog  ? 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Handing  it  ove7\]  Yes.  And  be  very  careful  with 
him.     He  says  he's  not  very  well  to-day. 

[Miss  Hall  takes  the  dog  and  goes  out. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I'm  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  of  talking  to 
you,  Archibald.  I've  fancied  that  you've  been  rather 
avoiding  me  the  last  day  or  two. 

Archibald. 

[Cheerfully.']  Oh,  no,  my  dear  mother. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

When  I  asked  Grace  to  invite  Helen  Vernon  to 
stay  here  for  a  few  days,  it  was  in  the  confident  hope 
that  you  would  make  her  a  proposal  of  marriage. 


134  LANDED  GENTRY 

Archibald. 

I  respect  and  esteem  Miss  Vernon,  but  I  confess 
that  no  warmer  feeling  has  ever  entered  my  bosom. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

It's  not  necessary  that  warm  feelings  should  enter 
a  clergyman's  bosom,  Archibald.  She's  of  very  good 
family  indeed,  and  an  heiress.  Five  thousand  acres 
and  a  house  that's  only  just  been  done  up. 

Archibald. 

[With  a  chuckle.]  If  there  only  weren't  a  wife  to 
be  taken  along  with  the  property  ! 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[IFii^A  a  twinkle  in  her  eyes.]  It  shouldn't  be 
necessary  for  me  to  tell  a  person  of  your  profession 
that  none  of  the  pleasures  of  this  world  can  be  had 
without  some  drawback. 


Archibald. 

"What  a  pity  it  is  you  weren't  a  man,  mother.    You 
would  have  made  such  a  bishop. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Are    you    trying    to    change    the    conversation, 
Archibald? 

Archibald. 

I  don't  think  it  would  be  a  bad  idea. 


\ 


i 


LANDED  GENTRY 


Mrs.  Insoley. 


135 


Then  I  will  only  say  one  thing  more.  I  am  the 
meekest  woman  in  the  world,  and  a  lamb  could  lead 
me.  But  I  should  like  to  remind  you  that  the  living 
of  Kenyon-Fulton  is  not  worth  more  than  a  hundred 
and  seventy  a  year,  and  if  you  can  keep  a  curate 
and  live  like  a  gentleman  it's  only  owing  to  my 
generosity. 

Archibald. 

I'm  quite  prepared  to  live  on  a  hundred  and  seventy 
a  year,  mother.  I  dare  say  it  would  have  just  as  good 
an  efiect  on  my  figure  as  matrimony. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[Rather  crossli/.]  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking 
about,  Archibald. 

Archibald. 

I  understood  you  to  recommend  marriage  as  a  sort 
of  heroic  remedy  for  corpulence. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
You  have  nothing  against  Helen,  I  presume  ? 

Archibald. 

[Smiling.]  I  could  have  wished  that  fewer  summers 
had  passed  over  a  fringe  which  I  shrewdly  suspect  to 
be  artificial. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Of  course  it's  artificial,  but  you're  no  chicken  your- 
self, Archibald. 


136  LANDED  GENTRY 

Archibald. 

On  the  contrary,  I'm  much  too  old  a  bird  to  be 
caught  by  chafi'. 

Mils.  Insoley. 

I'm  sure  we  don't  want  another  flighty  young  thing 
in  the  family. 

Archibald. 

I  don't  think  Grace  has  been  very  flighty  the  last 
day  or  two. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

What's  the  matter  with  her  ?  She's  been  going 
about  with  a  face  as  long  as  one  of  your  sermons. 

Archibald. 
I'm  afraid  Peggy's  death  upset  her  very  much. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[IriHtabli/.]  That's  the  worst  of  those  sort  of  people, 
they  have  no  self-control.  If  she's  going  to  give  way 
like  this  at  the  death  of  a  kitchen-maid,  what  on  earth 
is  she  going  to  do  at  the  death  of  a  duchess  ? 

Archibald. 

Is  it  a  riddle,  mother  ? 

[Grace  comes  in.  She  looks  tired  and  worn. 
She  is  in  a  very  nervous  state.  She  gives 
the  imj^ression  that  any  folly,  any  nildness 
may  be  exj^ected  from  her.  . 


LANDED  GENTRY  137 

Grace.^ 
Good  morning,  Archibald. 

Archibald. 
Good  morning. 

G  RACE. 

I  thought  you'd  be  at  the  inquest. 

Archibald. 

No.  There  was  no  need  for  me  to  go.  And  Claude 
seemed  to  think  he'd  rather  I  didn't. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 
What  is  this  ? 

Archibald. 
The  inquest  on  Peggy  Gann. 

Grace. 
Have  you  seen  Claude  ? 

Archibald. 

He  looked  in  at  the  Rectory  for  five  minutes.  I'm 
afraid  he's  awfully  worried. 

Mrs.  Insoley, 

I  have  no  patience  with  Claude.  He  should  have 
more  self-respect  than  to  let  such  a  thing  worry 
him. 


138  LANDED  GENTRY 

Archibald. 

He's  afraid  he  may  be  asked  some  very  unpleasant 
questions. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

You  seem  entirely  to  forget  the  relative  positions 
of  the  parties  concerned.  If  Claude  doesn't  want  to 
answer  an  impertinent  question,  it's  the  easiest  thing 
in  the  world  for  him  to  fly  into  a  passion  and  refuse. 
Who  is  the  coroner  ? 

Grace. 

His  name  is  Davies.     He's  the  local  doctor. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

You're  not  going  to  suggest  that  the  local  doctor 
would  dream  of  asking  a  question  unless  he  was  quite 
sure  Claude  was  prepared  to  answer  it  ? 

Archibald. 

Davies  is  an  advanced  Radical.  I'm  afraid  he  may 
take  the  opportunity  to  have  a  fling  at  Claude. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

I'm  all  at  sea.  In  my  day  we  wouldn't  have  stood 
a  doctor  for  five  minutes  who  was  a  Radical.  We'd 
have  made  life  unbearable  for  him  until  he  became  a 
Conservative  or  left  the  district. 

Archibald. 

[With  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders.]  You're  looking 
rather  dicky,  Grace. 


LANDED  GENTRY  139 

G  RACE. 
Oh,  I'm  quite  well,  thank  you. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

Am  I  mistaken  in  thinking  you  have  rouge  on  your 
cheeks  ? 

Grace. 

I've  not  been  sleeping  very  well,  and  I  didn't  want 
to  look  ill. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

In  my  young  days  ladies  did  not  paint  their  faces, 

Grace. 

[With  suppressed  rage.]  We  don't  live  in  your  young 
days,  and  I'm  not  a  lady. 

Mrs.  Insoley. 

[With  a  chuckle  at  the  opportunity  Grace  has  given 
her.]  As  you  are  my  hostess,  it  would  be  insolent  of 
me  to  contradict  you,  my  dear  Grace. 

[Delighted  with  her  repartee^  she  gets  up  and 
walks  out  of  the  room.  Grace  goes  uj)  to 
the  looking-glass  over  the  chi'mney-p)iece  arid 
rubs  her  cheeks  with  a  handkerchief. 

Archibald. 

I  wonder  if  you'd  be  very  angry  if  I  said  something 
to  you  ? 

Grace. 

[Icihj.]  Do  you  object  to  the  way  I  do  my  hair,  or 


140  LANDED  GENTRY 

is  it  the  cut  of  my  skirt  that  doesn't  quite  meet  with 
your  approval  ? 

Archibald. 
I  was  going  to  say  something  to  you  about  Claude. 

[Grace  gives  a  slight,  an  almost  imperceptible 
starty  hut  does  not  answer  or  look  round. 

Archibald. 

You  know  how  funny  he  is.  He  doesn't  say  much 
when  anything's  on  his  mind.  But  if  one  knows  him 
well  it's  not  hard  to  tell  when  something's  bothering 
him.  .  .  .  He's  awfully  worried  about  you. 

Grace. 

[Still  looking  in  the  glass.']  1  don't  know  why  I 
should  worry  him  now  more  than  I  usually  do. 

Archibald. 
He's  afraid  you  blame  him  for  Peggy's  death. 

Grace. 
Why  should  I  ? 

Archibald. 
He  feels  it  was  his  fault. 

Grace. 
I  suppose  it  was  in  a  way. 

Archibald. 

He's  so  fond  of  you  he  can't  bear  to  think  that- 
that  it's  made  a  difference  to  you. 


i 


LANDED  GENTRY  141 

Grace. 

Has  he  said  anything  to  you  about  it  ? 

Archibald. 
No. 

Grace. 

Perhaps  it's  only  your  fancy.  [Turning  round.] 
Why  are  you  telling  me  now  ? 

Archibald. 

I'm  afraid  he'll  have  rather  a  rough  time  at  the 
inquest.  I  thought  you  might  say  something  to  buck 
him  up  a  little.  A  word  or  two  from  you  would  mean 
so  much. 

[There  is  a  short  j^ciuse. 
Grace. 

I  think  it's  so  strange  that  you  should  say  all  this 
to  me  now.  It's  not  as  if  we'd  ever  been  great  friends, 
is  it  '< 

Archibald. 

Our  best  friends  are  always  those  who  put  us  in 
a  good  conceit  of  ourselves.  I  always  think  it's  a 
dreadful  thing  when  a  man  loses  his  nerve.  .  .  .  You 
can  do  so  much  for  Claude  if  you  choose. 

Grace. 

I  think  you  exaggerate  the  influence  I  have  over 
him.  After  all,  he's  always  taken  care  to  keep  me 
and  his  life  strictly  apart. 

Archibald. 
I  think  you  should  remember  that  if  he  made  a 


142  LANDED  GENTRY 

mistake  it  was  an  honest  one.     He  wouldn't  be  human 
if  he  didn't  put  his  foot  in  it  sometimes. 

Grace. 
You  speak  as  if  I  were  perfection  itself. 

Archibald. 

And  then,  if  he  was  so  determined  not  to  break  that 
particular  rule  of  the  estate,  it  was  partly  for  your 
sake,  wasn't  it  ?  Because  he  thought  it  his  duty  to 
keep  you  from  any  possibility  of  contact  with  evil. 

Grace. 
Did  he  tell  you  that  ? 

Archibald. 
No.     It  was  not  very  difficult  to  guess. 

Grace. 
I  suppose  not — for  anyone  who  had  eyes  to  see. 

Archibald. 
You  wdll  do  your  best,  Grace  ? 

Grace. 
What  do  you  suggest  I  should  do  ? 

Archibald. 

It's  very  difficult  for  me  to  tell  you.  I  think  the 
chief  thing  is  that  you  should  tell  Claude — if  you  can 


LANDED  GENTRY  143 

— that   you're   fond    of    him,     and    that,    whatever 
happens,  you  always  will  be  fond  of  him. 

Grace. 

[ffoaj^sel?/.]  That  oughtn't  to  be  very  hard.  I  love 
him  with  all  my  heart  and  soul, 

Archibald. 

[Smiling.]  If  you  could  only  say  that  to  him — just 
in  that  way,  as  if  you  really  felt  it — you  would  make 
him  so  happy. 

[There  is  a  jmuse.  Grace  puts  her  hands  in 
front  of  her  eyes,  and  she  keeps  them  there 
for  a  moment  so  that  she  shoidd  not  see 
Archibald  ivhile  she  is  S2)eaking, 

Grace. 

Archibald,  I  want  to  speak  to  j^ou  for  a  minute — 
as  a  clergyman. 

Archibald. 
My  dear  Grace,  you  frighten  me. 

Grace. 

I'm  sorry  if  I've  been  often  bitter  and  unkind  to 
you.  I'm  ashamed  when  I  think  of  all  the  silly,  cruel 
things  I  must  have  said  to  you  during  the  ten  years 
I've  lived  here. 

Archibald. 

[Cheerfully.']  Oh,  what  nonsense  !  You've  got  a 
clever  tongue,  and  like  most  people  who  have,  you 
can't  resist  saying  a  sharp  thing  when  it  strikes  you. 


144  LANDED  GENTRY 


Grace. 


I've  often  set  out  to  wound  you.  I've  been  fiendish 
sometimes.  I'd  like  you  to  know  that  I'm  grateful  to 
you  for  being  so  patient  with  me.  It  wouldn't  be 
surprising  if  you  loathed  me. 

Archibald. 
Oh,  I  think  I've  always  had  a  very  great  affection 
for  you,  Grace.     I  know  you've  often  found  life  down 
here  rather  dull.     If  any  allowances  have  been  neces- 
sary, I've  been  perfectly  ready  to  make  them. 

Grace. 

I  expect  I  was  often  unjust  to  you.  I  sometimes 
felt  you  weren't  quite  sincere.  ...  I  thought  you'd 
only  become  a  clergyman  on  account  of  the  living  and 
the  house. 

Archibald. 
Yes,  I  felt  that.     But  I  couldn't  bear  you  any  ill- 
will  on  that  account.     It  was  true. 

[Grace  tur^is  and  looks  at  Mm  with  startled  eyes. 

Archibald. 
I'm  afraid  I'm  not  much  in  the  way  of  parsons. 
My  class  means  so  much  more  to  me  than  my  calling. 
I  Imow  it's  a  mistake,  and  yet  I  can't  help  it.  I'm 
bound  down  by  conventions  that  I  haven't  the  will  to 
escape  from.  The  day's  past  of  the  family  living,  the 
perquisite  of  a  younger  son,  and  I'm  out  of  place  here. 
I  can't  feel  that  the  position  is  mine  by  right  as  my 
Uncle  Robert  felt  before  me,  and  I  haven't  the  en- 
thusiasm which  might  make  me  feel  I'd  t  arned  it  by 
my  own  efforts. 


J 


LANDED  GENTRY  145 

Grace. 

I'm  so  ashamed  of  myself.  Because  people  didn't 
carry  their  hearts  on  their  sleeves  I  thought  they  had 
no  hearts  at  all. 

Archibald. 

For  three  years  after  I  was  ordained  I  was  a  curate 
at  Wakefield.  I  was  worked  so  hard  that  I  never 
had  a  moment  to  myself.  I  think  those  were  my 
happy  days.  And  that's  what  I  ought  to  do  now.  I 
ought  to  exchange  all  this  for  some  living  in  a  city, 
and  do  some  real  work  before  it's  too  late.  But  I 
haven't  the  courage.  And  then  I  should  do  no  good, 
for  I  haven't  conviction.  That's  why  I  have  no 
influence  in  the  parish.  They  come  to  me  for  beef- 
tea  and  for  coal-tickets,  but  when  it's  real  help  they 
want  they  go  elsewhere.  All  I'm  fit  for  is  to  hold  a 
family  living  and  dine  with  the  neighbouring  gentry. 
You  summed  me  up  with  the  utmost  precision. 

Grace. 

I  don't  think  so  any  more.  I  have  an  idea  that 
perhaps  one  sees  people  most  truly  when  one  sees 
them  charitably. 

Archibald. 

[TFt^A  a  smile.]  You  said  you  wanted  to  speak  to  me, 
and  I've  been  talking  only  about  myself. 

Grace. 

I  think  you've  made  it  a  little  easier  for  me, 
Archibald.     It's  kind  of  you. 

[She  pauses  and  there  is  a  silence.     She  walks 
up  and  down  the  room  in  agitation. 


146  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 

[With  a  series  of  little  gasps.]  Archibald,  I'm  dread- 
fully unhappy.  I've  done  something  which  I  bitterly 
regret.  I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you.  But  I  must 
tell  you.  .  .  .  I've  been  unfaithful  to  Claude. 

Archibald. 

Grace,  you  must  be  mad.  You  can't  mean  what 
you  say.     It's — it's  impossible. 

Grace. 
It's  torturing  me.     It's  torturing  me. 

Archibald. 
But  I  don't  understand.    You  don't  mean  that  .  .  . 

Grace. 

[Desperately.]  Oh,  yes,  I  mean  exactly  what  I  say. 
Please  understand  me. 

Archibald. 
You  said  you  were  in  love  with  Claude. 

Grace. 

• 

Yes.    That's  why  I  can't  bear  the  agony  of  it.    I'm 
so  unhappy.     I'm  so  dreadfully  unhappy.     I  want   | 
you  to  help  me.     I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  to  do.      1 

[There  is  a  moment's  pause.  Archibald  is  so 
bewildered  that  he  can  find  not  a  word 
to  say. 


LANDED  GENTRY  147 

Grace. 
You  can  hardly  believe  it,  can  you  ?     It  sounds  in- 
credible.    Sometimes  I  can't  help  saying  to  myself 
that  it  is  not  possible  it  should  be  true. 

Archibald. 

[Trying  to  collect  himself.']  It's  come  as  a  most 
dreadful  blow. 

Grace. 

Don't  reproach  me,  I've  said  all  the  obvious  things 
to  myself  already.  .  .   .  Oh,  I  hate  myself. 

Archibald. 

I'm  so  bewildered.  Why  d'you  tell  me  ?  I  feel  I 
ought  to  ask  you  all  sorts  of  questions,  and  I  can't 
bear  to  ask  you  anything. 

Grace. 

I  don't  think  anything  matters  but  that  I've 
behaved  odiously.  Claude  was  always  very  good  to 
me,  and  I've  deceived  him.  And  every  kindness, 
every  word  of  love  he  says  to  me  is  a  reproach.  And 
I  love  him  with  all  my  soul,  and  there's  always  the 
horror  of  what  I've  done  between  us.  And  I  can't 
bear  it  any  longer. 

Archibald. 

I'm  so  helpless. 

Grace. 

Are  you  going  to  tell  Claude  ? 

Archibald. 
I  ?     You  must  be  mad. 


148  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 

I  thought  perhaps  you  might  feel  it  was  your  duty. 
You're  his  brother. 

Archibald. 

It  would  never  occur  to  me  to  betray  the  confidence 
you've  put  in  me. 

Grace. 

Then  what  shall  I  do  ? 

Archibald. 

I  can't  advise  you.     I  haven't  got  the  experience. 
I  know  so  little  of  the  world. 

Grace. 

You   micst    advise   me.     I'm   at   the   end    of    my 
strength.     I  can't  go  on  like  this  any  more. 

Archibald. 

Is   it   all   over  between  you  and  .   .  .  you  know 
what  I  mean  ? 

Grace. 
Yes,  it's  all  over. 

Archibald. 

I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  you.     I'm  awfully 
sorry. 

Grace. 

[Desperately.]  Is  there  no  one  who  can  do  anything 
for  me  ? 

Archibald. 

I  suppose  nobody  else  knows  ? 


I 


LANDED  GENTRY  149 

Grace. 

Helen  Vernon.  She  found  out.  But  I  can't  go  to 
her  for  advice.  I  can't.  I  can't  humihate  myself. 
And  the  remorse  is  just  killing  me. 

Archibald. 

It's  so  difficult  for  me  to  say  things  that  won't 
seem  sanctimonious.  I  don't  want  to  say  a  word  that 
you  can  think  is  a  reproach. 

Grace 
I  don't  mind  what  you  say  so  long  as  you  help  ma. 
[Thei^e  is  a  moment' s  pause, 

Archibald, 

[Hesitatingly  i\  "We're  taught  that  there's  one 
course  clear  to  the  sinner  that  repenteth. 

[Grace  starts  to  her  feet   and  looks  at  him 
vnldly. 

Grace. 

You  want  me  to  tell  Claude  ? 

Archibald. 

[In  a  low  voice.]  I  don't  see  how  there  can  be 
forgiveness  till  one  has  confessed  one's  sin. 

Grace, 

[With  a  deep,  deep  sigh.]  Oh,  if  you  knew  what  a 
relief  it  would  be !  For  days  I've  been  fighting  with 
the  temptation  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it.  I've 
been  trying  to  keep  it  from  me,  trying  not  to  think 
of  it.     But  it  meets  me  at  every  turn.     It  haunts 


150  LANDED  GENTRY 

me.     It's   like   an  obsession,  and  it's  stronger  than 

I  am.     It's  driving  me — driving  me  to  confess.     I 

know    I    shall   have  to  do  it ;    I  can't   help  myself. 
I  shall  go  mad  if  I  don't  tell  him. 

Archibald. 

For  goodness'  sake,  calm  yourself. 

Grace. 

If  I'd  told  him  before,  when  I  was  trying  to 
persuade  him  to  let  Gann  stay,  that  girl  wouldn't 
have  died.  I  hadn't  the  courage.  I  wouldn't  sacrifice 
myself.  It  was  too  much  to  ask  me.  And  since 
then  I've  been  tortured  by  remorse.  They  say  she 
had  the  suicidal  instinct,  and  would  have  killed 
herself  for  almost  anything.  But  I  seem  to  see  her 
lying  there  reproaching  me.     Reproaching  me. 

Archibald. 

Why  don't  you  go  to  Claude  at  once  and  get  it 
over  ? 

Grace. 

I'm  frightened.  I'm  just  sick  with  fear.  A  dozen 
times  I've  been  on  the  point  of  it — just  to  have  done 
with  it,  to  get  rid  of  the  agony  that  burnt  my  heart 
— and  at  the  last  moment  I  couldn't.  But  it's  like 
being  on  a  high  place  and  looking  down  and  holding 
on  to  something  so  that  you  shouldn't  throw  yourself 
over.  Sooner  or  later  I  shall  have  to  do  it.  ]t's  the 
only  way  to  get  back  my  self-respect.  It's  the  only 
chance  I  have  of  living  at  all. 

Archibald. 
I  wish  I  could  do  more  for  you. 


i 


LANDED  GENTRY  151 

G  RACE. 

No  one  can  do  anything  for  me.  Oh,  it  is  cruel. 
And  to  come  just  now  when  I  love  Claude  !  I  didn't 
love  him  at  first.  It  came  quite  suddenly — as  if 
scales  had  been  torn  away  from  my  eyes.  And  it 
wasn't  till  then  that  I  saw  the  sin  and  the  wicked- 
ness of  it.  Oh,  it  was  so  much  more  than  sin  and 
wickedness.  The  filthiness.  The  only  thing's  to  tell 
him  and  have  done  with  it.  You  know  he'll  divorce 
me,  don't  you  ? 

Archibald. 

He  loves  you  so  much. 

Grace. 

Even  if  it  breaks  his  heart,  he'll  force  himself  to 
divorce  me.  You  know  what  Claude  is.  He'll  think 
it's  his  duty.  He'll  do  what  he  thinks  he  ought  to 
do  even  if  it  kills  him.  Oh,  but  if  he'd  only  forgive 
me,  I  would  try  to  make  amends.  It's  so  hard  that 
I've  only  learnt  how  to  be  a  good  wife  now  that  I'm 
unfit  to  be  his  wife  at  all. 

Archibald. 
[Deeply  7noved.]  Be  brave,  Grace. 

l^She  looks  at  hirtifor  a  moment ^  then  suddenly 
makes  up  her  mind.  She  takes  a  letter  from 
her  dress  and  sits  down  at  the  desk.  She 
jntts  it  into  an  envelope  on  which  she  torites 
Claude's  name. 

Grace. 
Will  you  ring  the  bell  ? 


152  LANDED  GENTRY 

Archibald. 
[Touching  it.]  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? 

Grace. 

It's  a  letter  that  I  had  from — the  other.  It's  proof 
of  everything.  I  felt  T  couldn't  tell  Claude.  It  was 
hopeless.  And  I  thouglit  I'd  just  press  it  into  his 
hand.   .  .   . 

[As   she  is   speaking  Moore   comes  in.     She 
hands  him  the  letter. 

Grace. 

Have  that  given  to  Mr.  Insoley  the  moment  he 
comes  in. 

Moore. 
Very  good,  madam.  [Exit. 

Archibald. 

[Startled.]  D'you  mean  to  say  you're  going  to  tell 
him  like  that  ? 

Grace. 

It's  the  only  way  I  can  do  it. 

Archibald. 
[Overcome.]  Good  God,  what  have  I  done? 

Grace. 

He'll  read  the  letter,  and  then  the  worst  will  be 
over.     I  couldn't  have  told  him — I  couldn't. 


LANDED  GENTRY  153 

Archibald. 
I  hope  you've  done  right. 

Grace. 

Anyhow,  it's  the  end  of  everything — just  when  I 
might  have  started  a  new  life.  ...  I  wonder  when 
I  shall  have  to  go  awny  from  here  ? 

Archibald. 
Don't  put  it  like  that. 

Grace. 

[Looking  out  of  the  window.']  I  thought  I  hated  the 
place.  It's  bored  me  to  the  verge  of  tears.  And  now 
I  shall  never  again  see  the  night  fall  on  the  park 
slowly.  And  I  feel  .  .  .  and  I  feel  that  with  me,  too, 
those  great  trees,  and  the  meadows,  and  the  cawing 
rooks  have  come  to  be  part  of  my  blood  and  my 
bones. 

[The  door  is  opened,  and  Grace  gives  a  start 

and  a  little  frightened  cry,    Helen  Vernon 

comes  in. 

Grace. 

Oh,  I  thought  it  was  Claude.     . 

[iS'Ae  puts  Iter  hand  to  her  heart  and 
herself  against  a  chair. 

Miss  Vernon. 
What  on  eartli's  the  matter  ? 


154  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 
[  With  a  (jesture  of  the  head  toioards  Archibald.]  I've 
told  him  about  me  and    .   .   . 

Miss  Yerxon. 

[In  short  exclamation,  ichich  does  not  intej'j'upt 
Grace.]  Oh! 

Grace. 
I'm  going  to  tell  Claude.    It's  the  only  thing  to  do. 

Miss  Vernon. 

[To  Archibald,  sharply.]  Is  that  your  advice  ?  You 
fool,  Archibald  ! 

Grace. 
I  can't  bear  the  torture  any  more. 

Miss  Yernon. 

I  suspected  you  were  thinking  of  something  like 
this.     But  you  wouldn't  let  me  speak  to  you. 

Grace. 

I've  been  strufifglinfif  aorainst  it,  and  now  I've  made 
up  my  mind. 

Miss  Yernon. 

My  dear,  there  are  three  good  rules  in  life.  The  first 
is — never  sin ;  and  that's  the  most  sensible.  The 
second  is— if  you  sin,  never  repent ;  and  that's  the 
bravest.  But  the  third  is — if  you  repent,  never 
never  confess ;  and  that's  the  hardest  of  them  all. 


LANDED  GENTRY  155 

Archibald. 

I  don't  think  this  is  the  time  for  flippancy, 
Helen. 

Miss  Vernon. 

Good  heavens,  I'm  being  as  serious  as  I  possibly 
can. 

Archibald. 

D'you  mean  to  say  you  think  Grace  oughtn't  to  say 
anything? 

Miss  Vernon. 

I  think  it  would  be  monstrous  of  her  to  say  any- 
thing. 

Archibald. 

If  the  sinner  wants  forgiveness,  first  of  all  he 
must  confess  his  sin. 

Miss  Vernon. 

You  still  look  upon  your  God  as  a  God  of  vengeance, 
who  wants  sacrifices  to  appease  Him. 

Archibald. 

*'  If  we  confess  our  sins,  He  is  faithful  and  just  to 
forgive  us  our  sins." 

Miss  Vernon. 

That  was  said  to  a  stift-necked  generation  that 
wanted  humbling.  But  no  one  can  want  to  humble 
us,  surely.  We're  so  timid  already.  We're  so  unsure 
of  ourselves.  We've  all  got  a  morbid  desire  to  un- 
bosom ourselves.     The  commonest  ailment  of  the  day 


156  LANDED  GENTRY 

is  a  vulgai' feminine  passion  for  making  scenes.  Con- 
fession's like  a  drug  we  fly  to  because  we've  lost  the 
last  shadow  of  our  self-reliance. 

Archibald. 

Don't  let  her  move  you,  Grace.  I  beseech  you,  for 
your  soul's  sake.     Be  brave. 

Grace. 
I  know  that  it's  my  only  chance  of  happiness. 

Miss  Yernox. 
But  who  cares  about  your  happiness  ? 

Archibald. 
Helen,  how  can  you  be  so  unkind  ? 

Miss  Verxox. 

No  one  knows  why  we've  been  brought  into  the 
world,  but  it  evidently  wasn't  for  our  happiness.  Or 
if  it  was,  the  Being  who  put  us  here  has  made  a  most 
outrageous  mess  of  it.  Put  your  happiness  out  of 
the  question. 

Archibald. 

[Veri/  earnestly  to  Grace.]  If  the  sinner  repents, 
let  him  confess  his  sin.  That's  the  only  proof  he  can 
give  of  a  contrite  spirit. 

Miss  Yerxox. 

Nonsense.  He  can  give  a  much  more  sensible 
proof  by  acting  differently  in  future. 


LANDED  GENTRY  157 

Grace. 
That  would  be  so  easy  now. 

Miss  Vernon. 
But  actions  aren't  good  because  they're  difficult. 

Grace. 

Part  of  my  punishment  is  the  feeling  that  except 
for  this  horrible  mistake  we  should  both  be  so  much 
happier  than  we  were  before. 

Miss  Yernon. 
You  love  Claude  now,  don't  you  ? 

Grace. 
With  all  my  heart. 

Miss  Yernon. 

I  have  an  idea  that  it's  only  your  sin  that  has  made 
your  love  worth  having. 

Archibald. 
[Jiathei'  shocked.]    Helen. 

Miss  Yernon. 

You  were  rather  hard  and  selfish  before  because 
you  had  nothing  in  particular  to  reproach  yourself 
with.  Perhaps  it  was  necessary  that  you  should  step 
from  the  narrow  path  V  virtue  in  order  to  become  ^ 
virtuous  woman. 


158  LANDED  GENTRY 

Archibald. 
Helen,  you  can't  mean  that. 

Miss  Vernon. 

It's  very  often  only  repentance  that  makes  men  and 
women  human. 

Archibald. 
Repentance  is  useless  without  sacrifice. 

Grace. 

Yes,  I  feel  that.  And  the  only  sacrifice  I  can 
make  is  to  lay  bare  my  soul  before  Claude  and  accept 
my  punishment. 

Archibald. 

And  then,  I  think  Claude  should  be  given  the 
chance  of  deciding  for  himself.  It's  not  fair  to  leave 
him  in  ignorance. 

Miss  Yernon. 

[To  Grace.]  Don't  you  know  that  Claude  loves 
you,  and  trusts  you,  and  believes  in  you  ? 

Grace. 

That  is  all  my  torment.  I'm  so  unworthy.  If  I 
didn't  love  him — if  I  didn't  want  him  to  love  me  so 
much — it  wouldn't  be  so  dreadful.  ...  I  can't  bear 
that  there  should  be  this  secret  between  us.  I  know 
that  he's  not  loving  me,  but  some  fancy  of  his  own 
heart.  And  I'm  jealous.  I'm  jealous  of  the  woman 
he  loves  who  isn't  me.  And  I  want  him  to  love  me 
as  I  am,  as  I  love  him. 


LANDED  GENTRY  159 

Miss  Vernon. 

Grace,  don't  forget  that  I've  loved  him,  too,  hope- 
lessly, without  any  thought  of  a  return.  It  gives  me 
some  claim,  doesn't  it  ? 

[Archibald  looks  at  her  quickly,  with  smyrise, 
but  does  not  speak . 

Miss  Vernon. 

The  only  thing  I  care  for  is  his  happiness.  And  I 
beseech  you  to  have  mercy  on  him. 

Grace. 
What  do  you  mean  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 

If  you  destroy  his  belief  in  you  he'll  have  nothing 
left.  He  thinks  he's  strong,  but  he  isn't.  He 
depends  on  a  few  simple  principles,  and  some  of  them 
are  already  giving  way  under  his  feet.  He  wants 
you  now  more  than  ever.  You  can  give  him  back 
his  self-reliance.  And  you're  going  to  humiliate 
him.  Besides  everything  else,  the  misery  and  the 
grief,  don't  you  see  what  a  blow  it'll  be  to  his  vanity  ? 
I  beseech  you  to  have  mercy. 

Grace. 

You're  asking  me  to  go  on  living  the  hateful  lie. 
But  I  can't  breathe.  The  air  about  me  seems  heavy 
with  deceit.  If  Claude  doesn't  love  me  for  what  I  am, 
what  can  his  love  be  to  me  ? 


i6o  LANDED  GENTRY 


Miss  Vernon. 


My  dear,  it's  not  for  ourselves  that  our  friends  love 
us,  but  for  the  grace  and  the  beauty  that  they've 
given  us  out  of  their  own  hearts.  And  the  only  way 
we  can  show  them  our  gratitude  is  by  doing  all  we 
can  to  preserve  those  precious  illusions  they  have 
about  us. 

Grace. 

I  don't  \vant  a  love  that's  based  on  illusion.  A.t 
the  back  of  my  mind  there  was  the  hope  that  if  I 
told  Claude,  some  day  in  the  future  he  might  forgive 
me.  And  we  could  start  fresh  with  mutual  know- 
ledge and  mutual  confidence.  But  if  I  don't  tell  him, 
we  can  never  come  together.  Even  though  we're  not 
separated  for  an  hour,  there'll  always  be  this  barrier 
between  us. 

Miss  Vernon. 

Then  let  that  be  your  punishment. 

Grace. 

[^Startled.']  That!  [With  a  little  laugh  of  scorn ^ 
You  don't  know  what  you're  asking  me  to  do.  It's 
because  I  love  Claude  so  much  that  I  canH  let  him  go 
on  thinking  I'm  good  and  pure  and  chaste. 

Archibald. 
And  how  can  good  come  out  of  a  lie,  Helen  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 
Perhaps  it  wouldn't  be  a  lie  always.     Don't   you 


LANDED  GENTRY  i6i 

remember  the   Happy   Hypocrite  ?     Love  can  work 
many  miracles. 

GRACt:. 

[With  a  sort  of  gasp.]  You  mean — you  think  I 
might  become  really  what  Claude  thinks  me  ? 

Miss  Vernon. 
You  might  try. 

Grace. 

D'you  know  that  I  should  never  have  a  moment's 
peace  ? 

Miss  Vernox. 

If  you  love  Claude  really,  that  mightn't  be  too 
great  a  price  to  pay  for  his  happiness. 

Grace. 

[Vehementli/.]  Oh,  it's  all  very  well  for  you  to 
talk,  but  you  don't  know  what  this  sense  of  shame  is. 
It's  killing  me.  And  the  degradation  of  being  loved 
for  what  you're  not.  And  you  want  me  never  to 
escape  from  it.  Oh,  you're  right.  It  would  be  a 
fiendish  punishment. 

Miss  Vernon. 

It's  the  only  return  you  can  make  for  all  the  love 
that  Claude  has  given  you. 

Grace. 
[Taking  uj)  the  thought.]  For  his  wonderful  kind- 


1 62  LANDED  GENTRY 

ness,    and   all  these    years  of    thought   and    loving 
tenderness. 

[For  a  moment  G^kQY.  stares  in  front  of  her  as 
the  ivords  sink  in. 


Miss  Vernon. 
Grace,  it's  I  who  ask  you  now  to  be  brave. 

Grace. 

[With  a  great  sigh.]  I  seem  to  see  the  chance  of  a 
greater  sacrifice  than  anything  I'd  ever  dreamt  of.  I 
wonder  .  .  .  I  believe  there's  a  chance.  .  .  .  [With  a 
sudden  start.]  Oh  !  listen. 

[She  has  heard  Claude  co7ne  in.     There  is  a 
sound  of  voices  in  the  hall. 

Grace. 

That's  settled  it.     It's  too  late  now  to  do  anything. 

Miss  Yernon. 
What  is  it  ? 

Grace. 

Claude's  just  come  in.  I  heard  him  speaking  to 
Moore.     He's  been  given  the  letter. 

Miss  Vernon. 

D'you  mean  to  say  .  .  .  [Some  part  of  the  facts 
daivns  upon  her  and  she  bursts  out  violently.]  Oh,  it's 
not  that  the  human  race  are  wicked  that  I  mind, 
or  that  they're  weak — you  can  give  them  backbone  ; 


LANDED  GENTRY  163 

but    what    I    Ciia't    get  over   is  that  they  are  such 
blooming  fools. 

Grace. 

Will  you  leave  me,  both  of  you  ?    Claude  had  better 
find  me  alone. 

Miss  Veunon. 

[To  Arciiibald,  after  a  glance  at  Grace.]  Come. 
[T/iej/  (JO  out.  Grace  is  horribl]i  frightened. 
She  stands  quite  stilly  pulling  her  handker- 
chief about.  Claude  comes  m.  lie  has  a 
letter  in  his  hand.  He  flings  it  on  a  table. 
Grace  sees  with  a  start  that  it  is  i/Mojjened. 

Grace. 

[Forciiig  herself  to  seem  natural,]    Is  the  inquest 
over  ? 

Claude. 

[Sinking  dejectedly  into  a  chair.]  They  brought  in  a 
verdict  of  suicide  while  of  unsound  mind. 

Grace. 
That  was  what  you  expected^  wasn't  it? 

Claude. 

Yes. 

Grace. 

You  must  be  thankful  it's  finished  and  done  with. 

Claude. 

[With  an  effort.]  The  jury  passed  a  vote  of  censure 
on  me. 


i64  LJL\WED  GENTRY 

Grace. 
Claude ! 

Claude. 

Oh,  if  you'd  only  heard  the  questions  they  asked 
me !  There  were  reporters  there,  so  it'll  be  in  the 
papers  and  you  can  read  for  yourself.  They  made  me 
appear  a  perfect  brute. 

Grace. 
I'm  sure  it  wasn't  as  bad  as  you  fancy. 

Claude. 

You  see,  I  hadn't  a  chance  of  defending  myself.  I 
wasn't  going  to  make  excuses  to  a  parcel  of  Dissenting 
shopkeepers.  It  made  me  look  as  if  I  hadn't  a  leg  to 
stand  on. 

Grace. 

After  all,  what  can  it  matter  what  a  dozen  yokels 
think  of  you  ? 

Claude. 

And  afterwards  when  I  came  out — they  had  the 
inquest  in  that  big  room  upstairs  at  the  Insoley 
Arms — there  was  a  crowd  outside,  people  I'd  known 
all  my  life,  I  suppose  they'd  been  taking  the  oppor- 
tunity to  have  a  good  soak,  and  they  hissed  me  as  I 
passed. 

Grace. 

Didn't  you  say  that  you  were  going  to  abolish  the 
rule? 


LANDED  GENTRY  165 

Claude. 

Of  course  I'm  going  to  abolish  the  rule.  Hang  it 
all,  it's  caused  wretchedness  enough. 

Grace. 
T  wish  you'd  had  an  opportunity  of  telling  them. 

Claude. 

[Rather  shamefacedly J\  The  coroner  asked  me  what 
I  was  going  to  do  about  it.  I  couldn't  knuckle  under 
then  with  all  those  people  round  me.  I  simply 
couldn't,  Grace.  I  was  obliged  to  say  that  I  meant 
to  be  master  in  my  own  house,  and  I  didn't  propose 
to  let  anyone  dictate  to  me. 

Grace. 

[Putting  her  hand  on  his  shoulder.']  I'm  afraid 
you've  been  awfully  w^orried,  old  man. 

Claude. 

It's  given  me  a  bit  of  a  knock  to  find  out  that  they 
— they  just  hate  me.  I  was  rather  fond  of  the  people 
on  the  estate,  and  I  thought  they  were  fond  of  me. 
When  they've  been  in  trouble  I've  done  every  damned 
thing  I  could  to  help  them.  When  times  have  been 
bad  I've  not  bothered  much  about  the  rents,  and 
we've  never  been  rich.  Hang  it  all,  I've  given  them 
all  my  time  and  my  thoughts  for  years,  and  the  only 
result  is  that  they  can't  stick  me.  They  haven't  got 
any  mercy  if  I've  made  a  mistake.  They  give  me  no 
credit  for  good  intentions. 


1 66  LANDED  GENTRY 

Grace. 

I'm  sure  you  exaggerate,  Claude.  You  fancy  they 
feel  more  bitter  than  they  really  do. 

Claude. 

Oh,  if  you'd  only  seen  them  !  The  pleasure  they 
took  in  having  a  dig  at  me  !  I  could  see  the  hatred 
on  their  faces.  Oh,  I  expect  A  rchibald  is  right.  Our 
time  down  here  is  over.  The  only  fellow  they  want 
in  the  country  now  is  the  Jew  stockbroker  with  his 
pockets  full  of  money. 

Grace. 

Darling,  /  know  that  you've  always  acted  for  the 
best.  /  know  how  much  you've  done  for  the  people 
on  the  estate.  After  all,  it  wasn't  for  their  gratitude 
that  you  did  it,  was  it  ?  It  was  because  it  was  your 
duty. 

C^LAUDE. 

[Rising.]  Oh,  Grace,  I  don't  know  what  I  should 
do  without  you.  You've  been  so  awfully  good  to  me 
through  the  whole  thing.     I'm  so  grateful  to  you. 

Grace. 

What  nonsense  ! 

Claude. 

I  was  so  afraid  it  would  make  a  difference  to  you, 
but  it  hasn't,  has  it  ? 

Grace. 

[Shakmg  her  head.]  No. 


LANDED  GENTRY  167 

Claude. 

If  I  lost  you,  Grace,  I  couldn't  live.  Without  you 
— 1  can't  imagine  life  without  you. 

Grace. 
How  absurd  you  are,  Claude. 

Claude. 
I'm  talking  rot,  aren't  I  ? 

[He  notices  the  letter,  ickicJi  he'hadj-ut  on  the 
table,  and  j^icks  it  up,  Grace  catches  her 
hreath. 

Claude. 

Hulloa  !  I  forgot  to  open  this.  Moore  gave  it  me 
as  I  came  in.  \With  surprise?^  It's  your  hand- 
writing. 

Grace. 

[Quite  naturally,  holding  out  her  hand.]  It's  nothing. 
I  was  afraid  I  should  have  gone  out  by  the  time  you 
came  in,  and  I  wanted  to  remind  you  about  the 
herbaceous  border.     It's  only  a  note. 

Claude. 
[Giving  her  the  letter.]  Are  you  going  out  ? 

Grace. 
I  was  going  to  motor  to  Wells  with  Helen  Vernon, 
[^.s  she  sj^eaJcs  she  tears  the  letter  into  little  hits. 


i68  LANDED  GENTRY 

Claude. 
Don't   leave    me    to-day,   Grace.     I  want   you   so 
awfully  badly. 

Grace. 
[Sinking  with  exhaustion  into  a  chair.]  No,  I  won't 
leave  you  ...  if  you  want  me. 

[Claude  kneels  doivn  by  her  side. 

Claude. 
I  always  want  you,  Grace.  You're  so  much  to 
me.  .  .  .  After  all,  nothing  can  really  matter  to  me 
so  long  as  I  have  you.  It's  such  a  comfort  to  think 
that  I  can  trust  you.  And  you'll  never  round  on  me. 
I'm  awfully  grateful  for  you,  Grace. 

\^He  buries  his  face  in  her   lap^  kissing   Jier 
hands. 

Grace. 
[//I  a  trembling  voice.]  I  can  never  be  such  a  wife  to 
you  as  you  deserve,  Claude.  But  I  can  try.  If  you 
cau  believe  in  me  always,  Claude,  perhaps  in  time  I 
can  become  what  you  believe  me.  \^He  makes  a  move- 
ment.'] No,  don't  look  at  me.  I  want  you  to  know 
that  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart,  I  love  you  with 
my  body,  and  I  love  you  with  my  soul.  I  want  to 
forget  myself  and  think  only  of  j-'ou.  What  does  my 
happiness  matter  so  long  as  I  can  make  you  happy  ? 

\^She  bends  down  and  kisses  his  hair. 

THE   END 


U  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

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m 

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'^EC'D  LD 

f^0V22m) 

^ 

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•ElXiiii-v^:,  TC; 

'  :-!^20  1971 

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DEC  2  6  iy/8 

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